WITNESS
by colakirk
Summary: Peter and El accept the responsibility for taking care of six year old Neal Caffrey, but unfortunately, the little guy has seen things that put him in danger.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This story is based on one of my favourite movies by the same name and in particular, the scene where little Lukas Haas points at the newspaper clipping, identifying the bad guy and Harrison Ford comes over and pushes his hand down before someone sees. Thank you kindly to Australian Peter Weir and the writers for such a beautiful film.**

**Warning: This fic contains death of minor characters and examines dealing with death by a child. This is a rather dark fic so if you are after a pick-up, perhaps give this one a miss.**

**###**

**WITNESS**

"Take a deep breath hon, it wouldn't look good after everything we've done to get here to have you passing out on the way through the door." Federal Agent Peter Burke grinned while squeezing his wife's hand as he guided her up the concrete steps of the Department of Child Services. Elizabeth Burke smiled lovingly at her husband, grateful for his support, both physically and mentally. It had been a long, trying road they'd travelled down during the past five years…

_Peter and El had been married three years before deciding it was time to begin a family. The time seemed right in that both of them were settled in their perspective professions - Peter was successfully managing his role as senior agent in charge of the Bureau's New York White Collar Division and El was thrilled with the direction and growth of her own catering company, Burke Premier Events. In a few short years they had accomplished what many couples were unable to achieve in a lifetime of marriage. They had completed renovations of their Brooklyn townhouse, taken on a small investment portfolio, set up a long term college savings account and had even found time to break in a family pet – an adorable little Labrador pup that they'd named Satchmo after El's all-time favourite jazz singer._

_After giving the idea some serious consideration, El and Peter decided all that was missing was the pitter-patter of tiny feet. It was indeed time to create a new addition to their family, so they set about having a baby. But sadly for the Burkes, this part of the master plan did not have a happy ending. When El had no luck getting pregnant in the first six months, the anxious couple sought the advice of a specialist, followed recommended directions and measures to the letter, submitted to numerous tests and finally went down the IV path. Unfortunately, they had no more success with medical intervention than they had with their own natural attempts and in the end, had to face the inevitable facts that El getting pregnant was not meant to be. _

_It was understandable that Peter and El went through a long period of grief once they realised that they would never have a biological child of their own, a concept that neither of them had ever considered to be a possibility. El became depressed and withdrawn, Peter threw himself into his work like he never had before and neither of them were willing, nor wanted to discuss the problem least it bring their pain to the forefront. Unfortunately, a regrettable side effect of this strategy meant the less they avoided bringing it up, the more they avoided each other altogether, and after some time, their loving relationship became just a sad empty shell of its former self. And that may have well been the sad ending for this fairy-tale couple, if not for fate…fate finding its way and stepping in just at the right time…fate in the form of Peter's old friend, Rachel Hammond, moving in across the street. _

_Years back, Rachel had lived in the same block of flats as a young Peter Burke and their lives had managed to cross several times even after they'd moved away from each other. But still, Peter could barely believe it was Rachel stepping out of the front gate as he crossed the road one morning to his car, mystified by the fact that once again, the tall blonde with startling chocolate brown eyes had coincidently purchased a house in the same street. Of even more surprise however, was that fact that Rachel was holding a child's hand, a sweet young girl, perhaps nine or ten who griped her mother's arm tight as she talked to the stranger. Peter was deeply intrigued. Going back about a decade, he'd seen Rachel nearly every other day – for sure he would have remembered a nine month period when she'd put on weight or a particular day when she arrived home with a bouncing baby girl!_

_There were so many questions, the last he had heard, Rachel had been appointed Senior Child Welfare Officer at the Department of Justice in Los Angeles. Peter was keen to find out everything Rachel had been up since they'd last seen each other, and while entertaining was the last thing either Burke felt like doing in their current rut, that night they found themselves laying out a banquet for their newest neighbours._

_Rachel's little girl, Jessie was a darling and after initially acting all shy around her mommy's friends, she eventually relaxed and began to enjoy herself, joining in the conversation, telling Peter and El stories of school and friends and new music groups that the adults had never heard of and how the hardest part about leaving Los Angeles was having to say goodbye to her treasured Munchie – a beautiful Persian cat that would curl up on the end of her bed at night. Rachel had defended her apparent 'heartless actions' after receiving twin disapproving looks from both Burkes, by informing them that Munchie actually belonged to their elderly neighbour, Mrs Parsons, who had owned Munchie for over fifteen years and treated the cat like it was her own human child. And while Munchie had been allowed to share his time between Jessie's bed and the cat's own king sized ensemble with a two inch thick pillow top, pigs would fly to New York before Munchie would ever be permitted on a jet! Jessie joked saying that pigs flying wasn't beyond the realm of possibility and proudly declared that someone in her science class had even designed a prototype. And before long, the walls of the Brooklyn townhouse heard a sound they hadn't heard for a very long time – laughter. As much as El hadn't felt like visitors, it didn't take long to let the lively spirit of a youngster, infiltrate through her heartbroken bones and seep into her weary heart. And each time the child smiled and laughed, El's heartbeat grew just that little bit stronger._

_When Jessie relocated to the back porch to have a cuddle with Satchmo, Rachel took a moment to explain what must have been driving Peter crazy - who was the father and how had she managed to give birth to Jessie without any of her friends knowing. Rachel smiled as she went in to detail of how she had adopted Jessie a little over five years ago and while at the time, it was not something she had planned to do, it was the best decision she'd made in her entire life. Peter and El absorbed themselves in the story as they heard how Jessie's drug addicted mother had been in and out of rehab for the first few years of the young girl's life and how there wasn't a lot Rachel's department could do, other than place the child into the foster system each time the mother relapsed. In the end, Jessie's biological mother took one dose too many and Jessie was placed up for adoption. Rachel made the usual arrangements once the child was officially in the system and even went so far as to pick out a suitable family. But at the eleventh hour, something triggered in her brain or perhaps her heart sending her down a different path and she went through the process of adopting the little girl herself…and no, to this day, she had never had a single regret…._

… "You having regrets?" Peter paused with his hand on the door to Ms Hammond's office.

"Uh, sorry hon, what did you say?"

"You having regrets, thinking this was a bad idea after all?" Peter would rather El have doubts out in the hall than inside with Rachel or in front of the boy.

"No…I'm just a little nervous, that's all." The butterflies in El's stomach and the lack of blood flowing to her brain weren't from having second thoughts, far from it in fact. El was terrified something would go wrong, some miniscule part of this process may very well fall through and she'd never experience the joy of being a mother…after all, some things just weren't meant to be.

###

"He's down in the rec room," Rachel led the Burkes along several long uninteresting halls on their way to the residential quarter of the building. No one had said much since leaving Rachel's office, both Peter and El were deep in thought with all that was about to happen. They'd spent the better part of an hour going through official documentation and guidelines, reviewing the adoption process and signing and initialling what would no doubt have amounted to an entire ream of paper. And this was only for the probationary adoption period. If all went well, in six months' time, they'd have to go through everything again with a judge. It was a lot of paper work, but it was understandable - for one little individual, this was his whole life….

…_.Rachel had already told them quite a bit about the little boy when she came over to deliver the news that there was a little six year old boy in the care of her department that was to be put up for adoption. His story went that more than five weeks before, he had been discovered wandering through a park in Jersey and brought in to the local police branch by a Good Samaritan. Rachel's team had alerted missing persons departments throughout the country trying to find a clue as to the identity of this youngster - the little boy hadn't spoken a word since being brought in, he had no ID, no labels on his clothing and no one bashing down doors in the Jersey neighbourhood where he was located, trying desperately to find their missing son. When it was obvious no frantic parent was going to step forward to claim him, the child was placed into the care of State. Upon the advice of the in-house psychologist, he was kept at the residential facilities on site rather than shipped off to a foster family. It was no doubt the right thing to do seeing as how they knew nothing about this particular child, well not much more than his shoe size and without some background information, they were unwilling to place him in temporary foster accommodation. _

_For five weeks, the little chap sat around the centre's rec room with all the other children that were being processed through the system. As the days passed and they were no closer to finding out his actual name, the staff decided to call the boy Georgie. They tried their level best to get him to interact, but frustratingly the child was completely non-responsive, spending the majority of the day staring out the window or wandering aimlessly around the room. Even the child psychologist had been unable to break through the impenetrable wall the boy had built up around himself. The doctor had ruled out Autism believing the barrier was newly acquired, possibly the result of a recent trauma. But all the theories surrounding the small child had been merely speculation, conjectures thrown around the office by staff anxious to solve the mystery of the little boy nobody wanted. _

_Then ten days ago, a number of questions were answered when Rachel received a visit from Federal Agents of the Violent Crimes Division. After five weeks, it was highly unlikely there'd be a happy ending for the little boy but regardless of always knowing that would be the case, Rachel was rocked by what was laid out in front of her. According to the agents, the body of a young woman had been discovered by wilderness officers along a remote bush track at a nature reserve just outside of the city. The forensic investigation concluded that the woman had died from a gunshot wound and was identified through the DNA database as Adele Caffrey. The FBI had spent the better part of the past fourteen months trying to track down Ms Caffrey, ever since her estranged husband, Carl, a NYPD cop had been mortally wounded at a well-known mob hangout. At the time of his death, Officer Caffrey had been under investigation by internal affairs for suspected diamond trafficking and underhanded dealings with several convicted criminals. His death was unquestionably related to some type of illegal activity and the case had been turned over to the FBI. Adele was wanted for questioning in relation to the case but had disappeared off the grid immediately after her husband's demise, taking her young son and going into hiding. Neither of them had been heard from since. That was until DNA testing at the crime scene confirmed Adele's identity and directed the agents to the Department of Child Services where a match was flagged against 'Georgie's' DNA…._

"There he is, the one over by the window." Rachel indicated the young child standing with his forehead resting on the glass pane.

"What's he-" Peter jumped out of the way of a little tyke screaming past him on the way to the bathroom door behind them.

"Move aside or lose a limb, big guy!" The little whippersnapper sprouted on his way past.

"Slow down, Mikey, no running indoors," Rachel admonished in a stern tone.

"Sorry Ms Hammond, but a man's gotta go when a man's gotta go," Mikey groaned before disappearing into the bathroom.

Rachel shook her head while holding in a laugh as she turned back to the Burkes, "What can you do?"

"The kid made a good point," Peter concurred before nodding his head towards the window and trying again, "What's the little guy looking at?"

"What's he looking for?" Rachel corrected sadly. "I imagine he's looking for his mom."

"But he's been told?" El asked with sudden grave concern.

"Yes, of course, Dr Barton explained what had happened once we had confirmation but…it was unlikely he was able to get through. He said acceptance would come with time."

"And in the meantime, he keeps waiting?"

"I'm afraid so El."

El swallowed hard to wash away the lump in her throat. Rachel had warned her, she had warned them both. She'd laid out all the facts, hadn't held back with anything so El felt she had no right to feel shocked, to feel alarmed, to feel already overwhelmed that she was totally incapable of caring for this needy youngster. What skills or experience did she have? Nil, nothing, no experience whatsoever. She'd never so much as cared for a neighbour's child or a niece or nephew. She was probably the most inadequate candidate to become the full time carer for this child who had just lost his mother, had also lost his father and had been living a life of cloak and dagger for almost a third of his young life. But Rachel had assured El that she would know how to act, know how to handle the little one, know the right things to say and do. Rachel had complete faith, as biased and misguided as it was, that her and Peter would be just what the youngster needed to start over. But now, seeing the little chap staring out the window, oblivious to the comings and goings of all the other children playing with their videos games, painting at the craft table or lazing in front of the television, El was swamped with self-doubt. The reality of the scene brought home to El that everything she had been told had indeed been an accurate account – raising this little boy with so many needs was going to be a trying and testing time for all of them.

"Come on," Rachel placed a reassuring hand on El's back and nudged her across the room. "Let's go meet your boy."

_Your boy!_ El almost spun round and bolted out the door. Of course she'd have to take Peter with her – he had a firm grip on her hand and whether it was to support, or to be supported, El wasn't sure, but nevertheless, it would be quite a sight to see two grown adults running from the building! Without any conscious action on her part, El found herself guided into one of the child-sized seats near the window and realised they'd formed a semi-circle around the little boy. He was yet to notice, or pay any attention to the new arrivals for that matter.

Once Peter and El were settled, Rachel smiled reassuringly and winked by way of saying, everything was going to be fine, then she reached out and placed her hand on the little boy's shoulder. He didn't react, he didn't spin to see who it was like you'd expect him to. Instead he remained standing, staring, gazing silently out the window, looking for something…or someone. Rachel spoke with a soft, gentle, caring voice… "Neal…Neal sweetie…Neal turn around please, I want you to meet some friends of mine."

The little boy didn't respond and he made no move his eyes away from the window.

"Neal…" this time Rachel tried with a little more conviction, "turn around please so we can talk."

Still no reaction. It was like he was the only person in the room, the only person left in the whole world…his world.

Rachel stood up and placed her hands on Neal's shoulders then she pulled him towards the spare seat and nudged him carefully backwards until he was sitting down. The little guy took one final longing look back at the window before dropping his head and staring at the ground.

"Neal…I'd like you to meet some friends of mine," Rachel lifted the youngster's chin till he made eye contact with the adults across from him. "This is Peter…"

"Hi Neal," Peter cleared his throat and darted his eyes to Rachel for assurance. He was feeling mighty uncomfortable and had to admit he was totally out of his element.

"And this is my friend, Elizabeth. Some people call her El. You can call her El or Elizabeth, whichever you like better." Rachel turned the boy by his shoulders so he was facing El.

"Hello Neal, it's so nice to finally meet you." El reached out and patted the little boy's knee. It was so tiny, so fragile. Would he break if she hugged him too tight?

"Neal…" Rachel moved back into his line of sight, "We are going to drive over to Peter and Elizabeth's home now. They live across the street from me and they have a bedroom especially for you. It has dinosaur pictures on the wall and drawings of cars on the bedspread, and best of all; you won't have to share your room with a whole heap of other children like you do here. Also, and I'm sure you are going to love this, El and Peter have a puppy, his name is Satchmo. Would you like to go and see him?"

El and Peter looked on expectantly, hopefully, wishing for some type of acquiescence but sadly there was nothing, nothing a blank stare, like nothing had been offered, no suggestion made. It was as though the little guy's body was in the room, but his mind was not. It felt to El like Neal was a million miles away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thank you to all the readers who left positive and encouraging words. A number of those were guest readers and this site does not allow for me to send a reply so I shall mention it here that kind words and support are very inspiring and always greatly appreciated. :)

**Chapter 2**

"How long do you think he'll stand there for?" Peter took a sip of his coffee and nodded in the direction of the front bay window. They'd been home for well over an hour and after showing the little fella around the house, his bedroom, the bathrooms, the backyard and anywhere else he would need to access, the entourage finished up in the living area where Neal made his way across to the window at the front and Peter, El and Rachel converged on the dining table.

"He's likely to stay there for as long as you let him," Rachel spoke as from experience. "You and El need to be the ones to make the call here, Petey. Neal's not in any position to make these decisions for himself so he needs you to guide him and make those choices for him. If you think he's been standing at the window for too long, just go and take his hand and lead him to the couch or out to the backyard. Take him for a walk around the block, involve him in whatever you can. Have an expectation that he'll participate even if you know he won't. Eventually…" Rachel looked over her shoulder at the topic of their conversation, "he'll start joining in because it's simply become part of the routine and he'll do it without thinking."

"What about tomorrow, when we bring him back for his appointment with the psychologist? Will the doctor want to go through his concerns with us?" El seriously hoped the doctor was going to give them an instruction booklet and some worldly advice at some point during the appointment.

"He may touch on it briefly but the sole purpose of the check-up will be to assess Neal's mental well-being. It won't be necessary for you to be there Peter unless you want to of course. Irrespective, the appointment will most likely only last for ten minutes or so. There isn't a lot Dr Barton can do with Neal in his current state."

"No," Peter had already decided, "I'm going to pick El and Neal up and bring them in."

"Okay then, I guess I'll be seeing you all tomorrow then around ten. If you have any worries," Rachel pushed up from the chair and slung her handbag over her shoulder, "you know where to find me. I've got to collect Jessie from swimming squad and take her to get new joggers for school. It's incredible how fast these kids grow out of their shoes."

"You're leaving?" Peter hadn't heard much after he watched Rachel don her handbag, his brain shifting into panic mode the moment he realised they were about to be left alone with the little guy. He'd had a similar freaked out reaction when they picked up Satchmo from the private breeders – it was a daunting feeling to be suddenly responsible for another living being. It had felt a lot like being out on a rather thin limb of a very tall tree without so much as a thread of rope for a safety line. Of course, the feeling of anxiousness regarding Satchmo hadn't lasted, just a day or two until Peter found his feet and his confidence and before long, he felt like he'd been looking after dogs his entire life.

Remembering those early days with fondness, Peter turned his eyes to his faithful yellow Labrador who was also over by the window. Satchmo had taken more interest in the little person than Neal had in the puppy, much to both his and El's disappointment. Elizabeth had so hoped that the youngster would show at least some semblance of animation when Satchmo greeted Neal excitedly by trying to lick his hand but Neal simply reacted with the same glazed over look he had in eyes when they had given him the tour of the house – perhaps everything was all just a bit overwhelming for the little chap – after all, there was an awful lot of that going around.

"You are going to feel overwhelmed," Rachel turned to face her friends like she could read their concerned thoughts. "It's going to feel like you're out of your element and you're going to have serious doubts. It's a natural reaction for new parents, particularly for those taking on a child with high needs. I know you'll be fine but if you need me, I am here for you both, anytime day or night, please don't hesitate and remember… this is my department, my area of expertise so there's a good chance I can point you in the right direction." Rachel reached up and kissed Peter on the cheek then wrapped her arms around El for a comforting hug of support. El didn't want to, but eventually relinquished her hold and showed their friend to the door. She locked up and turned back to her husband, almost too nervous to look over in the direction of the bay window… not only scared that their little boy wouldn't be there, but scared that he would.

Peter saw the look in his wife's eyes and hoped he didn't have a mirror image to match. He stepped over and wrapped El up in his arms, holding her tight and smothering her in warmth. As he stood there listening to El take deep calming breaths, Peter realised it was their first real moment as parents - the first time they'd been left alone with the little guy. They were responsible for him now, just him and El. Peter thought that perhaps he should say something, make a speech, break open the champagne, ring friends and tell them, "It's a boy!" But none of that felt right. In all honesty, celebrating was the last thing he felt like doing. He had a mental list of priorities in his head and he would have to see to those before any jubilation could take a stand. He turned his eyes while still holding El tightly and looked over at Neal. The little boy continued to stare out the window, not interested in the dog at his feet, not showing any concern that Rachel had just walked out the door, not seemingly bothered by the fact that he had just been deposited into a strange new home and left alone with two adults he barely knew. Neal looked more like a life-size children's doll propped up against the window than a little boy. As far as Peter was concerned, his top priority would be to bring this little boy back from whatever dark place he took shelter in when the last remnants of his imperfect world crumbled to his feet five and a half weeks ago.

###

"Is there anything I can get for you sweetie?" El tucked the youngster in with his bright blue racing car blanket and a cuddly toy wedged under each side. After Neal's bath, she had helped the little guy into his Mickey Mouse pyjamas and then sat beside him on his bed to read Muffy the Squirrel and One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. Neal hadn't appeared at all interested in the stories, but El had been reluctant to pick anything that may trigger unhappy memories for him. She had planned to read a chapter book so they could read a little bit each night together but almost every chapter book she had initially selected dealt with some issue or problem that Neal may possibly relate to. El leaned down and kissed her boy on the forehead, "Goodnight cutie, and sweet dreams."

Peter reached around El and ruffled the little tykes black curls, "Goodnight partner. Sleep tight."

Neal didn't reply, didn't react, didn't move, and didn't so much as lift his eyes to look at the two adults making all the fuss beside his bed.

Peter took El's hand and squeezed it tight before moving towards the door and flicking off the light. "We'll be just down the hall Neal. Come and get us if you need anything."

El followed her husband into the master bedroom and dropped herself onto the bed, "What do you think hon? Do you think he's ever going to respond to us? Do you think he knows what happened to his mother? Do you think we are the best thing for him? Do you-"

"El," Peter sat down beside his wife and placed his arm around her shoulder. "Rachel went over this with us. Remember her saying that with the way Neal's mind is operating at the moment, it may be some time before we see any affection returned and we should try, as difficult as it may be, not to feel disappointed or disgruntled when there's no response to our attempts to make him happy. This is his first night in strange surroundings, we have to give him time to get to know us. Honestly, I think the little guys doing pretty well all things considered."

El snuggled up to her husband's shoulder, "I guess you're right."

"See, you're already making more sense," Peter chuckled. "Admitting that I am right is the first step in the right direction."

El slapped the top of her husband's thigh, "Don't get used to being right, mister. It's a rare occasion and probably only happened because I'm not at the top of my game."

"Oh believe me, I won't," Peter kissed the top of his wife's head. "Now, why don't you have a nice long hot herbal bath and I'll keep a listen out for the little tyke."

"I'd be silly to say no to that plan." As easily as she could have stayed there quite comfortably all night, El pushed herself off Peter's supportive shoulder and moved towards the bathroom. "Oh, can you check he's not getting too hot under the blanket."

Peter was in the middle of lying back across the bed when he stopped himself halfway to the pillow and smiled, "Sure hon." Anything to keep the peace. He climbed off the bed and stretched his legs before heading down to Neal's room.

Neal's room… Less than a week ago the spare room at the end of the hall had simply been referred to as the guest room - not that many guests ever used it. El's parents had on a handful of occasions when they visited from interstate and Peter's sister stayed over once when she came to NYC to watch a Broadway show with her boyfriend but other than that, the room pretty much was mostly used for the storage of winter clothes and coats throughout the summer.

When they received news from Rachel that there was a little boy in need of a placement within a week, Peter and El went to work on the room with great haste. The drab light chestnut coloured curtains were pulled down, replaced by a vibrant blue check material with dinosaur prints and a matching static cling mural along the main wall. They took the queen size bed down to the basement and replaced it with a white wooden panel kid's single and tossed a car track play mat carpet square over the beige Berber carpet. There were still heaps of improvements to be made to transform it into a little boy's room and El would be sure to see to those finer details in due course but for now, the room was good enough for one little chap who wasn't really noticing anything anyway.

Peter stepped inside the room quietly not wanting to disturb Neal and snuck over to his bed but all the stealthy leg work went by the way side the moment he noticed the blanket pulled back, one cuddly toy lying on the floor, the other gone altogether and one empty pillow. Peter rushed back to the door and flicked on the light, his eyes darting around the room. Relief washed over him as he spotted Neal perched up on the windowsill, staring out blankly into the lights shining dimly over the fence, mostly from the house that backed onto the Burke's backyard and their immediate neighbours.

"Neal," Peter gave fair warning as he approached the little boy so as not to startle him. "Hey Partner, what are you doing out of bed?" Peter tucked his hands under Neal's arms and lifted him up off the windowsill. The window had a fixed security screen but still, Peter didn't think it was good practice to sit on the ledge of any window least a screw worked its way loose!

Neal continued to gaze out the window, even as Peter carried him back towards the bed. For all his reaction, or lack there of, it was as though he was still alone in the room.

Peter went to lower the little boy back down onto the bed but stopped when he suddenly became aware that this was the first time he'd actually held 'his son' in his arms. It left him feeling warm and joyful all over and he wanted it to last just a little while longer so instead of returning Neal to his bed, Peter walked over to the recliner in the corner – one of the final remnants of the old guest room furniture and lowered himself down while still cradling the boy. He wasn't sure how Neal would respond, but he certainly wasn't expecting the reaction he did get. Instead of pushing off his knee or sitting bolt upright and staring off into space, Neal leaned into Peter's shoulder and cuddled up against the older man's chest. Without conscious effort, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, Peter rested his hand against the side of the youngsters head and began rocking back and forth gently in the chair, and then, like he'd being doing it all his life, he began to hum a tune he remembered his mother using to put him to bed with when he was little and couldn't sleep. After a couple of rounds of the soothing lullaby, Peter felt the little guy give way to sleep and as he drifted off, his tiny arm dropped down by his side.

Peter was happy to revel in the moment for as long as he could and was still rocking hypnotically when El, having finished her long hot bath, came in to investigate. She stood in the doorway and brought her hand up to her chest, sucking in an emotional breath and not caring to wipe at the tears that leaked from the corner of her eyes. It was a tender moment she never thought she'd see, not after everything they'd been through, not after accepting they would never have a baby of their own, not after deciding to adopt a child with severe emotional issues. El had all but given up on moments like this ever being a reality and yet, here they were. She walked over and lifted the little boy's arm back onto his lap and kissed Peter on his forehead. There was nothing she could say, walking into the room and seeing their little boy sound asleep in his daddy's arms said it all so she stood beside her husband and let her tears of joy do all the talking.


	3. Chapter 3

Much to El's disappointment but not to her surprise, Neal's appointment with Dr Barton at the Department of Child Services came and went without any secret remedies coming to pass. Neal had sat stoically on the visitors couch between Peter and El while the doctor first asked the little boy a series of questions that went unanswered and then placed a blank sheet of paper on the coffee table and asked Neal to do a drawing of himself, which he did not. When the doctor accepted that he was unable to get any type of response from the youngster during this session, as it had been with all the others, he ended the appointment and asked the Burkes to bring back their son in a week for a subsequent evaluation. Peter wanted to ask what was the point, but understood bureaucratic nonsense enough to know that there'd be many such hoops they'd have to jump through to satisfy the governmental system.

On the way back into the office, Peter dropped El and Neal off at the shopping mall that the Burkes frequented on a regular basis. It was an easy five block walk back to their house, but nevertheless, Peter had offered to stay and drive them home when they were done. El declined the kind offer saying she didn't know how long they'd take checking out and trying on new clothes and shoes for Neal and that they'd probably have lunch at the eatery before heading back. Peter was secretly grateful he wasn't going to have to stick around for the clothes shopping. He'd suffered through it a couple of times with El and while he appreciated her desire to examine every last piece of clothing on the rack in every store at the mall, he avoided accompanying whenever humanly possible.

El held Neal's hand tight as she led him down the centre isle towards the clothing stores. As they walked, she couldn't help notice that the little boy was more observant than he had been the day before. His head kept turning and his eyes were investigating in every direction. Perhaps a day out was all he needed, after all he'd been cooped up at the Child Services building for well over a month. It was no wonder he kept gazing out the window, the little tyke must have been longing to get out and about. El pulled the youngster into Cotton On Kids and made a bee line for the Teeny Chaps section at the back. She removed a smart black and white check button up shirt off the rack and held it up to the little guy, "What do you think sweetie? Do you like it? It looks very stylish and it suits the colour of your hair."

El may as well been having the conversation with one of the child-sized mannequins doted throughout the store for all the reaction she got from Neal. The little boy gave no indication whatsoever as to what he thought of the clothes Elizabeth held up for his perusal, instead, he continued to invest all his attention into looking around the store, mostly at the entrance to watch the comings and goings of the customers. In the end, El picked a couple of items she liked the look of herself and they moved onto the next store. When Neal's non-responsive stance continued at each subsequent shop, El gave up asking and just chatted with the little boy about incidental topics while she selected bits and pieces for his wardrobe. Of course, the chatting was one sided, but El made the most of it and soon found herself sporting a half dozen bags to carry home.

On the way to the eatery, El felt her hand slip out of Neal's when the little guy suddenly decided to stop. She had been so used to him compliantly trailing along, she wasn't ready for it when he planted his feet on the ground and tugged his hand away from hers. "Neal?" El turned and crouched down beside the boy, almost thrilled with his sudden show of independence. "What's wrong sweetie?"

But Neal wasn't paying her any attention. His eyes were fixated on the community notice board that was displayed on the wall at the entrance to the eatery. El looked up to see what had caught the little boy's eye and immediately worked out the mystery. In the middle of the notice board was a poster with a photo of a yellow labrador retriever that resembled Satchmo and in big letters above the photo were the words, 'Have you seen our puppy?'

"Oh no sweetie. Were you thinking that was Satchmo? It's a yellow labrador retriever like our Satch but this puppy belongs to…" El stood up so she could read the fine print at the bottom, "belongs to Jill and Tanner Goldberg who live at the opposite end of Brooklyn to us." El crouched back down again, "It's okay sweetie, Satchmo is safe and sound back at our house and I'm sure he'll be waiting at the door for us. As soon as we have lunch we'll head home."

Hoping that he must have understood at least some of what she was trying to explain, El took Neal's hand and guided him over to the food outlets. She wasn't going to bother asking him what he wanted but then she recalled Rachel's words about expectations. "Neal sweetie, what would you like for lunch?" But the little boy was too busy scanning all the people to even register they were in an eatery and it wasn't until Elizabeth placed a serve of chicken nuggets and fries onto the table in front of him did he even think about food. He absentmindedly picked up a french fry and popped it into his mouth but his eyes never stopped scanning the crowd the whole time he ate.

###

"I've just got to stop and grab a jar of plum jam for the tart I'm making for dessert sweetie. This won't take long and then we'll head home." Even though Neal was too old for an afternoon nap, El was conscious of the fact they'd been out for a while and was somewhat concerned about exhausting the child on his first ever outing with her. They'd done quite a bit of walking already and they still had to make their way home. El moved down the isle of the grocery store with her young charge in hand, releasing it long enough to pick up two jars to read the fine print on the back label, preferring the jams made from local ingredients. Neal's eyes watched on as Elizabeth made the comparisons but his mind was elsewhere. After standing patiently for a minute or two, staring at the shelves of jam jars, he zoned out and entered a time that had already passed, a time before everything changed…

"_Baby…"_

_The dark haired five year old with a happy smile and sparkling blue eyes, dropped the small construction set back into the basket of clearance toys and bounded across the isle to his mother who was carefully examining soup cans. "Yes Momma?"_

"_Baby, listen to me," Adele crouched down to her son's level and spoke in a quiet, serious tone, "Momma only has enough money for the bread. I get more money tomorrow and we can get other groceries then but I want you to do something for me."_

"_What is it Momma?"_

"_I want you to play a game with me."_

_Neal grinned from ear to ear__,__ he loved his Momma's games. "How do we play it?"_

"_Okay baby, I'm going to pay for the bread," Adele held up the loaf she was holding in her hand, "but I want you to hold this soup can in your hand and just walk beside me. Don't try to hide it, just pretend it's not even there, pretend it is invisible and no one can see it but you, okay?"_

"_Okay Momma." It sounded like a fun game to Neal._

"_Now," Adele looked around to make sure no one was in ear-shot, "when we get to the counter, if anyone asks for your can, Momma is just going to say that I handed it to you to put back on the shelf but you must have misunderstood."_

"_And what happens if I get it out without anyone seeing it, Momma? Do I win?"_

"_Yes Baby, you win."_

"_What do I win?" Neal asked as his mom directed them towards the checkout._

"_If you win…" Adele appeared to give it some serious consideration, "I will take you to the park on the way home and push you on the swing fifty times."_

"_Sixty?" Neal suggested an even better prize._

"_Okay baby," Adele rubbed her little man's head, "you strike a hard bargain so I guess it's going to have to be sixty."_

_Neal smiled happily__. H__e knew he could win the prize…._

…. "Neal…Neal sweetie…"

Neal snapped out of his trance and looked up at the lady who was not his mom.

El leaned down and touched the youngster's cheek tenderly while she inquired, "You were in a far off place sweetie, I couldn't get your attention. We're you thinking of something funny? You had such a happy smile on your face."

Neal ignored the line of questioning and began to scan the shelves. There was something he needed to get before they reached the checkouts – something he would need to use as soon as they got back to the house. They were almost at the front of the store when Neal spotted what he needed but it was on the wrong side of the isle and Elizabeth had a tight hold of his little hand. Seeing no other option, Neal 'accidently' bumped into the bottles of Pepsi standing precariously on top of a cardboard box and knocked them rolling across the floor.

"Are you okay sweetie?" El checked that her little boy was fine before releasing his hand and darting after the bottles. It only took a moment to pick them up and reacquire Neal's hand but it was long enough for the little boy to attain his target – a set of coloured drawing pencils. As they proceeded to the checkouts, El didn't notice them in the little con's hand, nobody would. The pencils were now invisible and Neal knew he'd have no worries getting them out of the store without anyone seeing them. He'd played this same game many times before and he'd won, every single time.

###

Peter arrived home from work just as El was taking her plum jam tart out of the oven. The first thing the weary agent noticed was not the overwhelming sensational waffles in the air of freshly baked pastry but of the fact that there was no little body standing at the bay window looking out. He had all but expected that's where he'd find Neal so was pleasantly surprised when the little guy was spotted kneeling beside the coffee table busily colouring in, paper and pencils scattered out in every direction. Peter took a deep breath and smiled gratefully. He would have ordinarily followed his nose to El's delicious home-baked sweets but tonight he followed his heart to his little boy and his creations. " Hey, partner," Peter patted the youngster's head as he took up a spot on the floor beside him. "Watcha up to?" It was obvious, but Peter was persistent and believed that the boy would have to answer…eventually.

Neal scribbled away on the paper, creating something that resembled an abstract drawing - Peter couldn't tell for sure. But he did note that the little boy had a rather advanced colouring technique that he wouldn't have expected of someone so young. And while the drawing itself didn't appear to be anything recognizable, Neal's shading was precise and his shapes and lines where crisp and deliberate. Peter patted the child's head the pushed himself up off the ground, groaning slightly while thinking he probably shouldn't have gotten down there in the first place, then made fast tracks to the delectable smelling tart. As he reached out to break off an edge, he found his hand playfully slapped at, "No you don't mister, dinner is just about ready."

Peter withdrew the offending hand and used it to pull his wife in for a warm embrace, "I can't believe it El, would you look at our big guy. He's like a mini Picasso with all his drawings strewn across our living room floor."

"I know," El beamed back with the same genuine happiness and relief that her husband was emanating. "We got home from our walk and I found him foraging through the trash looking for something. I watched him as he got out a few pieces of junk mail and carried them over to the coffee table where the pencils were and I saw he was going to start drawing so I got him some blank pages out of the printer. He's been heavily involved in drawing and colouring ever since."

Peter shook his head with amazement, "That's wonderful hon. Hopefully it's the first step along the road to recovery for the little guy."

"I hope so too," El rested her head against her husband's chest. "I didn't want to get too excited when I saw him start to draw, thinking he'd return to the window at any point but he's just been happily drawing all afternoon."

"Well there you go, all that worry for nothing. See some things turn out okay after all." Peter walked over to the fridge to treat himself to a beer. "Good thinking getting him those pencils by the way."

El stopped halfway to the stove and turned back to Peter, puzzled, "Getting him the pencils? Didn't you leave them out on the coffee table for him? I was thinking how sweet that was of you."

"Sorry hon," Peter took a swig of his beer, "I'd like to take the credit for this one but no can do. You must have put them there when you were moving stuff around. Probably did it without even thinking."

El turned back to the stove and switched off the heat. She knew she hadn't put pencils out of any sort. She was going to set up a little craft corner for Neal somewhere in the living area but she hadn't had a chance and she certainly would remember purchasing equipment for the youngster to use. El peered into the living area at the busy little beaver and considered. No, she had definitely not put those pencils there for Neal to use… But if not Peter, and not herself… then who?


	4. Chapter 4

After Peter left for work the next morning, El was all inspired by the enthusiasm Neal had displayed with his drawings and tried hard to engage the little guy in other activities around the house. She led him out the back while she fed Satchmo, she took him down to the veggie patch to water the garden and she found an old step stool in the basement so the tiny tyke could help to cut out the choc chip cookies with the novelty shaped cutters. And when she ran out of the fun things to do, El suggested to Neal that he help her carry the washing down to the laundry and hold the freshly washed towels while she packed them back under the basin. But even though she spoke cheerfully to the youngster the whole time, he never once responded to any of her questions or remarks and the new mother began to wonder if her child could hear her at all.

Once all the chores were done, El left her young charge on the couch and found an episode of Scooby Doo on the television to keep him occupied while she went into the kitchen to prepare a snack. But when she returned a couple of minutes later, Neal was no longer where she'd left him. She looked to the bay window, half expecting him to be standing staring out and was almost surprised that he wasn't. El placed the tray with the cookies and milk onto the coffee table and proceeded up the stairs to see if Neal had run up to use the bathroom. When it was evident he was not anywhere obvious, El's heart rate went up a few notches but when she made her way back down the stairs and noticed the front door just slightly ajar, her heart began to beat with rapid panic.

El moved down the stairs with a single minded intent and rushed through the door, sucking in a deep calming breath as her eyes focused on her little boy stepping onto the sidewalk just at the edge of their property. "Neal!" El shouted as she moved with haste and caught up with the little guy before he got too close to the curb. She crouched down and wrapped him up in a secure hug then released him so she could see his face, "Neal, where were you going sweetie? You can't leave the house by yourself, it's way too dangerous. And how did you get out? I had the front door locked." _Can you even reach the door lock?_

Neal, of course didn't respond, he simply looked back over his shoulder in the direction he had been heading.

El made an educated guess, "Were you headed to that park we passed on the way home yesterday?" The only reason they hadn't stopped for a play was because they'd already been out for a while. Not that Neal had shown any interest in the swings, but El told him anyway that she would bring him back for a play sometime in the next couple of days. "How about we come in and have a bite to eat and then we'll get our hats and Satchmo and take him for a walk to the park?"

El took the little boy's hand and led him back into the house, trying hard not to think too much about how many things…bad things could have gone wrong had she not intercepted the small child when she did.

###

"What do want to try out first Neal, the swing or the climbing nets?" El tied Satchmo up to the nearest park bench and looked around, noting that they had the place all to themselves, which was a bit of a disappointment as she had been keen to see if her little boy would engage with other children.

Neal looked over to the swings with his eyes and El took that as the closest thing she was going to get for an answer.

"Good choice sweetie. I like the swings best too." El pulled the little guy over to the nearest swing and helped him up. "Do you like to go high," El rested her hands on the swing chains in preparation to push, "or do you like to have a nice smooth ride?"

Neal didn't answer, but not because he hadn't heard like El was beginning to surmise, but because he had already answered….

…"_Higher Momma!" The curly haired little boy swung his legs wildly in an effort to get the swing to go higher._

"_No Baby. That's already high enough. If I push you any harder you're going to go right over the top and Mommy doesn't want to be having to pull you up out of the dirt."_

_Neal chuckled at the image of him going right over the cross bar then kicked his legs with all his might to see if he could actually do it._

_Adele rolled her eyes then grabbed a hold of the swing chains to slow it down._

"_Awww…Momma? More!"_

"_Nuh uh baby. That was seventy-five pushes. I counted them." Adele waited til the swing was at a standstill before resting her rear on the empty swing beside Neal._

"_I counted too Momma and I think you may have been three short." Neal suspected his mom was correct, she was always good with math, but the little man never quit trying to get a little bit more out of her than she promised._

"_Not a chance baby. It was seventy-five, not a single more, not a single less."_

"_If you say so," Neal kicked at the dirt under his feet and continued to maintain he'd been short changed._

"_I do say so," Adele said with a laugh before kicking the dirt herself and becoming serious. "I got a new driver's licence yesterday Neal, do you want to see it?"_

"_Yes please Momma."_

_Adele passed over the licence and waited for her child to react, Neal was nothing if not observant and she had no doubt he'd pick it up._

"_Momma!"_

"_Yes baby?_

"_This licence has your other name, the one that all the people in our unit block call you…Miss Julie Carter," Neal read the cardholder's name out loud._

"_That's right baby," Adele took the card back and tucked it safely into her purse before pulling out a folded piece of paper and handing it over. "I have one for you too baby, this one is a birth certificate."_

_Neal unfolded the single sheet like he was unveiling a treasure. He read the words on the page with quiet seriousness then lifted his eyes disappointedly. "They spelt my name wrong Momma."_

_Adele reached out and patted her son's knee, "No they didn't baby. You can also spell Neal, N...I…E…L."_

"_But that's not how I spell it," the little guy pouted._

"_I know, but isn't it fun for a change? To have a new name, just like mommy."_

_Realisation hit the youngster and he spun the swing so he was facing his mom and asked with a shaky voice, "Are the bad people back Momma?"_

"_No, no baby, they aren't. We still have to be careful but I don't think we have to worry about the bad people anymore."_

"_Then why do you want me to be called N…E…I…L Carter? What's wrong with Neal Caffrey?"_

"_Nothing is wrong baby, you can still be Neal Caffrey, you'll always be Neal Caffrey, but Neil Carter…" Adele gave it some thought, "Neil Carter is part of our new game."_

"_A new game Momma!" Neal swung his legs excitedly._

"_Yes Mr Carter, a new game. In this game you get to pretend you are Neal Carter, so you have to practice writing it and saying it whenever anyone asks."_

"_So how do I win this game Momma?"_

"_Well, my pretend name is Julie Carter and yours is Neil Carter and if you forget and say your real name first then I win, and if I forget and say my real name first-"_

"_I win!"_

"_That's right baby."_

"_I'm going to win for sure, what do I win Momma?"_

"_Mmmm, how about if you win, I will enrol you in school when the new term starts after the vacation."_

_Neal sat contemplating the offer and squeezed his lips together while deep in thought._

"_Well baby, what do you think?"_

"_I don't know Momma. I'm not sure if that's a prize or a punishment."_

_Adele laughed jovially, "Fair enough baby. I am certain you will love school but if you win we'll negotiate a mutually satisfying prize, okay?" Adele climbed off the swing and held onto Neal's so he could climb off too. "We've got to go now baby, I have to clean the Jenson's before Mr Jenson gets home from work, remember he finishes early on a Friday."_

"_I remember Momma," Neal groaned. Everyone knew Mr Jenson finished early on a Friday…half-day-Friday he called it and every Friday anyone who had the misfortune to run into him would have to listen to him boasting about how good it was to work half-day and how everyone should try it. "I know it's Friday Momma but what about those three pushes you still owe me," Neal gave his mom a cheeky grin._

"_Three pushes baby," Adele relented and pulled back the swing, "Okay but you have to earn them."_

"_Yes Momma!" Neal grinned, happy that once again his negotiations had been successful._

"_I'm Julie Carter," Adele pushed the swing high, "What's your name little boy?"_

_Neal grinned, excited that the game was already in play, "Neil Carter."_

"_What was that? I didn't quite hear?"_

"_I said, my name is Neil Carter."_

"_Nick Cater?"_

_This time Neal shouted, "Neil Carter!"_

… "Neal?" El stopped pushing and pulled the swing to a halt before stepping in front of the youngster and crouching down, "Neal, sweetie, you just called out."

Neal's eyes went wide and his hand went up to his mouth. The little guy appeared shocked by Elizabeth's disclosure.

El on the other hand was elated. It was the first time she'd heard the youngster's voice. "Sweetie, you called out Neal Carter. Is that…" El considered what to ask, _'Is it someone you know, is it you, did you mean to say Caffrey, did you say Caffrey, certainly you said Neal_.' Neal had said his name and that was all that really mattered. The little tyke had spoken, her son had talked. It was a fabulous feeling and she couldn't wait to tell Peter. Perhaps she could get him to say more… "Neal, what's my name?"

Neal dropped his head and kicked at the dirt below his feet. He hadn't meant to speak, he wasn't supposed to speak. He hoped no one heard. Well… Elizabeth had heard but maybe that didn't matter… Maybe?

"Do you want me to push you again?" El asked excitedly but her elation soon wavered when Neal not only remained silent but he climbed off the swing and walked slowly across to where Satchmo was tied up and sat down on the park bench.

El swallowed away the last of her delight and conceded that there'd be no more talking. Evidently, it was time to go home.

###

Peter stopped rocking the chair with his feet and listened carefully to the slow steady rhythmic breaths that indicated the youngster on his lap had indeed entered into a deep sleep. After discovering it was the only sure way of getting the little boy to sleep, Peter rocking Neal in the chair once El had read to him was fast becoming a part of the nightly routine. And the seasoned FBI agent had to admit he couldn't help thinking about this little ritual throughout the day. If only his work colleagues were aware when he was leading his team through serious and intense cases that there was a small part of their boss' brain that was rehearsing children's lullabies and longed to be at home singing his son to sleep.

Peter lifted the sleeping child and carried him across to the bed as El pulled back the blanket and gently tucked a cuddly toy under his arm. Both parents kissed their sleeping child on the head before tiptoeing out to the hall and down to their own room.

Once out of earshot – even though the youngster was totally out to it, El sat on the bed and asked excitedly, "Well…?"

Peter had been about to head into the shower but turned with a puzzled expression, "Well what?"

El rolled her eyes, "Well…What do you think of Neal talking today at the park?" She was yet to have an opportunity to discuss the exceptional event with her husband due to her not wanting little ears to hear but had sent through a text message to her husband to give him the good news.

"Oh, yeah…" Peter tried to match his wife's excitement – which was a difficult task in itself, "Uh, fantastic El, how did you get him to speak and what, you said in your text he called out his name?"

"Yes," El jumped off the bed and began to demonstrate, "I was pushing him on the swing, and he had that…that zoned out expression he gets on his face like he's lost in another place and he's not even aware of what's going on around him, so I was about to stop the swing, in case he forgot he was on a swing when out of nowhere, he calls out, 'Neal Caffrey'…no, actually it wasn't Neal Caffrey but something close, like Neal…Neal Carter, yes Neal Carter, that is, I think it was Carter, to tell the truth, I was so startled to hear his voice that I barely registered he'd said Neal."

Peter stopped smiling at El's attempt to blurt out a short story in one disjointed sentence and squinted his eyes in concentration, "You think he said Carter?"

El thought before nodding, "Yes, I'm pretty sure, why? Does that name mean something to you?"

"No," Peter rested his hands on his hips then began pacing the small area that their bedroom allowed, "But it may be something. I'll check it out tomorrow at work. So far there are no leads as to where Adele and Neal were living just before Adele was…" Peter stopped himself, there was no need to say it, "but perhaps they were using the alias Carter. I'll look into it." The agent kissed his wife on the cheek and stepped towards the shower, but not before calling over his shoulder, "Good work hon on getting Neal to say something. It may only have been two words but it tells us he can talk and that's a huge step for the little guy and for us."

"Thanks hon," El waited for Peter to climb into the shower before moving quietly back down the hall to their son's room. She traipsed back inside, careful not to step too heavily least the slightest noise wake the child and moved over to stand beside his bed. The little tyke hadn't moved, he was still resting peacefully in the exact same position Peter had placed him. El wanted to reach out and touch his curls, pat his head, stoke his arm but instead she refrained and just stood staring down at her little man and whispered, "I know I'm not your real Mommy, sweetie, but already I love you with all my heart and when you spoke today…well, it was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. I'd love to hear you talk some more. I can't wait to hear your beautiful voice again. If you're not ready to talk, that's okay too. Peter and I just love you to bits no matter what."

El sighed. There was no response, but not because the child was in a deep sleep. Fully awake or sound asleep it was always the same outcome - there was never a response. El thought about Peter saying that Carter may have been an alias…who knew? One thing was for certain though, from everything she knew about the troubled past of this little boy laying peacefully before her, he undoubtedly had a great deal to talk about.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter rolled over in his bed and opened his eyes, checking the bedside alarm clock out of habit – five fifteen am - before laying motionless and listening intently. Over the years he'd trained his brain to shake his sleeping body out of the depths of a sound sleep whenever his mind registered even the most inaudible noises, if said noise was seemingly out of place. El predictably remained dead to the world. From years of trusting her husband to investigate anything out of the ordinary, she'd trained herself to sleep through no matter what!

After listening for more than a minute and hearing nothing but the chirping of the blackbirds outside the bedroom window, Peter figured he must have woken from his deep sleep merely because his old bones were protesting over laying in the same position for way too long. Running a hand across his face he figured that since he was awake anyway, he should probably check on his little man…but first a bathroom pit-stop.

Peter quietly closed the bathroom door as he stepped onto the cold tiled surface in his bare feet thinking he probably should have taken a few extra seconds and put on his slippers - good advice that he'd have to remember for next time but for now, he had business to take care of. He was in the process of lifting the toilet seat when he heard what sounded distinctly like Satchmo's scratching at the back door. No doubt the Labrador had heard Peter stumble into the bathroom and was taking advantage of the opportunity to get someone to come down and take him for his own 'pit-stop.' _Hold on a minute buddy, me first!_ Peter joked with himself as he lowered the seat. He was about to flush when he heard the unmistakeable sound of the back door opening. Peter froze, the last time he checked, Satchmo did not have an opposing thumb and therefore unable to turn a key in a lock!

The agent's skill set went on full alert, as he pulled back the curtain and leaned in close to the window to look directly below at the back porch, while trying to ascertain the situation. He didn't know what he expected to see but he absolutely did not anticipate seeing his young son darting off the porch and heading around the corner into the side yard. It took Peter all but a couple of seconds to be on the bottom step where he had to decide if it would be quicker to race out the back door, which was no doubt unlocked or to spend valuable seconds getting the front door key and fiddling with the various locks and bolts. He decided to go the back route and raced out the way of his wayward youngster. Peter rounded the porch and raced down the side yard, charging out onto the sidewalk and looking one way, then the other, but unable to see anything in either direction.

The sun was barely up but still, there was enough light to see that boy was no longer in sight. _Where was he!_ Peter choked down the dryness in his mouth as he considered what the hell he was going to do next, when out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a mop of black curls bobbing along behind the cars on the opposite sidewalk.

"Neal!" Peter shouted as he raced across the road and intercepted the youngster. "Neal!" he repeated as he wrapped the little guy up in his arms and lifted him up, settling him against his chest. "What are you doing partner? Were you sleepwalking?" Peter took a couple of calming breaths now that everything was okay and took stock of the situation. He noticed for the first time, particularly from how his feet ached like icicles that he was inappropriately dressed for an early morning stroll, unlike his son. Neal was decked out in his junior designer hiking boots, corduroy pants and turtle neck sweater.

The agent knew very little about childhood sleepwalking other than the fact that some kids were capable of doing anything including travelling considerable distances, while totally out to it. But was getting dressed first, something children under the sleepwalking spell would be likely to do? Peter had no idea but he knew whom to ask. Rachel was coming over for dinner - the perfect opportunity to have all his questions answered by someone in the know.

###

Peter carried the little guy in through the back door and considered what to do next. There was no point trying to go back to bed – his alarm wouldn't be going off for at least an hour but he'd have to keep his eye on Neal to be sure he didn't take off again. And besides, there was no way the youngster would be content to just lie down and drop off to sleep, after all, he was dressed and ready to take on the day. Peter sighed deeply, carried the little tyke over and deposited him on the lounge while he removed his shoes. "How about I find some cartoons for you kiddo? Any particular program you like to watch?" Peter knew they'd be no shortage of children's programs on at this unearthly hour.

Neal stared blankly before looking back to the door.

"Sorry partner, it's way too early for a walk, but after breakfast, how about you and I take Satchmo for a stroll around the block? Now, what would you like to watch?"

Neal maintained his silence ensuring the decision was left in the agent's capable hands. Peter flicked on the television and found a kiddy program with two young overbearing hosts that were pretending way too hard to be enjoying themselves while zooming around the studio set in their cardboard box aeroplanes. Peter rolled his eyes, dropped the remote control next to his young charge by way of saying, 'Feel free to change it whenever you want,' before collecting the paper from outside the front door and putting on the jug for what was sure to be his first of many coffees for the morning.

Peter settled into the arm chair opposite the couch and lounged back while thinking that getting up early did have its merits - for once he could take his time reading the morning paper instead of skipping through the headlines on his way to the sports section. The agent was absorbed in an article about a neighbourhood watch group that had been charged with extortion when he had that eerie sixth sense feeling that he was being watched. He took his eyes off the words on the page and slowly lowered his newspaper… "SHIT!" Peter dropped the paper into his lap and grabbed for his chest as he regained his composure, cringing when he realised he'd just cursed in front of his young son. _Damn it!_ _What a fantastic start to fatherhood! _Not that he'd been able to help it - Neal had been standing freakishly close just on the other side of the newspaper and Peter considered it was so much like a scene out of a child-possessed movie where the spooky kid moves without actually moving that it was probably only a whole lot of good luck that he'd been able to stop himself from saying worse, still… "Uh, I meant shivers, yeah, I didn't mean that other word, I only meant shivers cause you gave me quite a start partner when I looked over the top of the paper. I wasn't expecting you to be standing there." Peter took a deep breath and accepted that the little guy was not in the least bit concerned about the use of a curse word been spoken in his presence and appeared far more interested in the paper on Peter's lap. "You…you want to have a look to see what I'm reading?"

Peter moved the paper aside, lifted the young boy onto his lap and held up the paper so the front page was facing them. There was a rather large photo of some kids riding bikes and boards at a skate park with an article about funding for community centres being cut resulting in public outrage that was taking up most of the front page. Peter considered that Neal must have been attracted to the picture of the kids on their bikes and was more than happy for him to sit and stare at it for a while before turning the page. On page two there was a story about an increase in violence in schools that was back in the news due to a stabbing incident at the local junior high. Peter was hoping the little guy nestled against his chest was too young to read the words, 'stabbing' and 'violence' but flicked over to the next page regardless, if only to assure himself that he wasn't exposing his son to inappropriate content.

On pages four and five, there was another cool picture, this time of the new Yankee Stadium. Peter pointed to the photo and couldn't help but ask enthusiastically, "How would you like me to take you to the Yankee's next home game, partner? You and I could get some hotdogs and dribble sauce all down our shirts and we could see who cheers the loudest!"

Neal of course, did his usual thing and offered no feedback so Peter continued to read the article corresponding to the stadium photo before turning over the page…or trying to. Much to Peter's amazement, the little guy reached out and stopped him from flipping over the next sheet. Peter looked down at the child on his lap and could tell from the angle of his head that he was still trying to look at something on the page that was in the midst of being turned over. The agent was more than happy to fold back the paper, ever so grateful to see the little tyke engage in something.

"What were you looking at, partner?" Peter did a quick scan of the page but there were only two possible photos, one of a local politician giving a conference in front of the press and another was of fire fighters attending a gas leak at a retirement village. Perhaps Neal had been looking at the picture of the fire truck. Little boys liked fire engines and police cars didn't they? And of course Neal's dad had been an NYPD officer so perhaps he had a personal interest in emergency vehicles. "Do you like fire engines, kiddo?" Peter considered that after work he might just stop by the department store to pick up a toy fire truck - anything that may energize the child into action was well worth a shot.

Peter started to turn the page but was stopped once more. This time the agent followed Neal's line of sight and realised he wasn't staring at the fire truck at all, rather, the little guy was _reading_ an article about a young woman in her late teens who'd been missing for more than a week and her family was appealing to anyone had seen a teenager hanging around the service centre at the entry to the Interstate. Peter immediately closed the paper, tossed it on the coffee table and stood up, bundling the child in his arms while he moved across to the couch. "Let's see what's on the other channels hey, kiddo. Bet we can't find a decent baseball match to watch." He immedicately began channel surfing while nursing the little boy on his lap, unable to pay any attention to what was on the screen. His mind was a million miles away. Part of his brain was spinning with the fact that he was certain he'd just witnessed the six year old reading what was a fairly complicated text. Weren't kids his age only up to reading The Cat in the Hat and basic first readers? He'd have to come back to that question, perhaps he could add it on to the ever growing list he was preparing for Rachel, because right now he had just been delivered a pointed reminder regarding the fact that he was yet to address perhaps their greatest obstacle. How on earth was he ever going to handle the issue of getting the little boy on his lap to understand that his mother was not missing…she was dead.

###

"So you think it may have been sleepwalking?"

The new parents had been firing questions at Rachel ever since she'd directed Jessie to take Neal upstairs to go have some fun with the Lego. Earlier in the day, Jessie had rumbled through her rather extensive toy collection and gathered all her old Lego sets from various boxes, which she then piled up in a new blue plastic crate Rachel had bought for this occasion. The young girl wanted to bring something over for the little boy who'd just moved in with the family across the street. Her mom had explained that Neal was just like she had been - in need a new mom and dad because something sad had happened to the ones he had before.

Rachel had a very open attitude with Jessie about her mother and her past before they came to be together. She never let Jessie forget that she had another mom before her and every year they would celebrate Mommy Pauline's birthday and write her sweet messages and every Mother's Day they'd spend part of the day looking at photos and videos of Jessie and Pauline together. And because Jessie knew she could talk about Mommy Pauline and ask any question she wanted, she had developed a very healthy attitude over the years about adoption and starting over and how lucky it was to have someone who could fill your life with love when you thought for a time it would never happen again.

Jessie couldn't wait to hand over her gift as soon as she arrived at the Burkes and passed the blue plastic crate over to the little guy the minute she came through the door. Neal had been standing by the bay window watching them come up the stairs but was still quite taken back when he had a heavy box thrust into his hands by a girl grinning from ear to ear. Peter had rescued the heavy crate before it dropped onto the youngster's toes and carried it up to Neal's bedroom so they could play with it after dinner. So, as soon as they were finished their desserts, Jessie grabbed Neal's tiny hand and tugged the little boy all the way up to his room, leaving her mom free to be interrogated by the Burkes to their heart's content.

"Difficult to say if it was sleepwalking or not. The fact that El said she also found him heading out by himself the day before when he'd been wide awake leads me to believe it was conscious behaviour on his part. Either way, for your own peace of mind so you don't find yourself sleeping across the doorway to his bedroom every night, I'd invest in a couple of additional dead-bolts for all the exit points," Rachel smiled knowingly at the agent, "not that you probably haven't already got that on your to do list for the weekend."

Peter sighed, "I've already picked out what I need on line, just need to collect the bits and pieces Saturday morning."

"So apart from the sleepwalking and the alleged advanced reading, how do you think everyone is settling into this new arrangement? How are you both holding up?"

"Yeah, just great."

"It's been a wonderful week, Rachel."

Rachel looked across the table at her two friends and tilted her head while offering a sympathetic smile, "You know, it's okay to admit it's not all turning out the way you were hoping. It's okay to admit that you feel despondent that you're not making any progress, or as much progress as you had hoped." El and Peter both looked away rather than dispute the suggestion. "You know, a child like Neal, despite all outward evidence to the contrary that he's an undeniable adorable bundle of cuteness, is going to put your self-confidence and belief in yourself through the wringer because there's no return yet on your love. At this point, you love him unconditionally, it doesn't matter that he's not returning that love but deep down you're no doubt worried that the unconditional love has an expiry date and eventually you'll need something in return."

"No, of course-"

Rachel held up her hand to quell El's defence, "Whether you admit to it or not, subconsciously that thought is simmering somewhere under the surface, and that's perfectly natural, it's nothing to be ashamed about." The welfare officer waited a beat to give the words a chance to sink in. "I know that eventually Neal will begin to open up to you, I know that he'll eventually return that love, and how I am able to say that without skipping a beat is because I know you'll never give up on him and it's that consistency and persistence," Rachel gave a pointed nod in Peter's direction, "that will enable him to accept the way things are now, understand and acknowledge that you are his new mom and dad and in time be as giving with his love as you both are with yours."

Peter took El's hand in his while he considered his friend's words. He sucked in a tired breath before responding, after all, he'd been up since the crack of dawn! "I'll admit, it's been…"

"Scary?" El suggested.

"Downright terrifying," Peter corrected. "It's all so different and half the time we don't know what we're doing…"

"And when we think we know what we're doing, we're second guessing."

Rachel laughed, "Been there, done that. You know, with all my study and all my training, that first week with Jess, well, I felt like a bumbling idiot. In Neal's case," the young woman became serious once more, "you're stumbling in the dark much more than I was. We don't know what the youngster went through, we don't know what's going on in his little head, we don't know the magnitude of his psychological scaring. For now, all we can do is take it one step at a time… and he's obviously passed tonight's test. Jessie hasn't come running back down the stairs to say her new friend has just shoved a Lego piece up his nose or come down crying because he's just pulled her hair and thrown all her Lego creations across the room so I'd tick off the box that says, 'My child can interact positively with other children.'"

Peter and El both laughed, happy to see that yes, their little boy was coping well in many areas. "Might have to see for myself," the agent joked. "Maybe my son has locked your daughter in the closet so he doesn't have to play."

El glared at her husband who immediately thought he probably should have checked to make sure that hadn't happened before joking that maybe it had.

Rachel laughed good humouredly as she followed the Burkes to the stairs, "Let's go check it out shall we…perhaps my daughter has tied up your son so he didn't run away when she started in on her fifty thousand questions."

By the time the three adults had reached Neal's bedroom, they all had little niggly concerns as to what they might find so it was quite a relief to find that both children were building and creating happily on the floor with Lego spread from one corner of the room to the other. Well, one child was building happily, Jessie had created an amazing set up with horses and knights and a drawbridge and trees made out to look like a forest and something that resembled a bridge or a paved road crossing through the middle. She had a big smile on her face and was playing out a scene between the knight on one of the horses and a 'peasant' standing on the drawbridge.

Peter and El looked from the delightful scene over to their son. He was pressing bricks together but he looked so…so serious, so intent. The same absorbed look he had on his face the day he'd been drawing. He wasn't smiling and it was hard to tell if he was having fun. He wasn't paying any attention to Jessie and her game, it was like he was alone in the room, like he had the space all to himself, just him and the Lego bricks. Neal locked another brick into place and put down the rectangular structure he'd just built.

Peter noticed there were several other identical structures standing side by side. The agent walked into the room and crouched beside his little boy, "What are you building, Neal? Looks pretty impressive. Is it a rocket ship, or maybe a fire engine, or…" The agent wasn't expecting an answer so just about fell over when Neal looked up to make eye contact, something he'd never done before, and pushed all the rectangular structures together, creating what appeared to be a row of apartment buildings. Peter kept real still as he watched the youngster rummage through the crate to pull out two Lego mini figures – one a lady, one a boy, which he placed in front of the Lego structure. Peter wanted it to be the case that Neal meant the figures to be representations of himself and El but there was no doubt in his mind that the little boy figure was Neal and the female mini figure, his mom…Adele.


	6. Chapter 6

Over the next couple of days, Peter found it difficult to concentrate at work. He was distracted at meetings, his eyes would scan over documents but not take anything in and he found himself passing over any and all case files for his junior agents to tend to. Not surprisingly, his mind was elsewhere and he was feeling frustrated and concerned that he was unable to come up with a solution to the problem that monopolised his brain. It was like the images of the little Lego people were burnt into the backs of his eyelids – every time he saw them, he couldn't help thinking of the little guy standing happily outside his apartment building with his mom, Adele. That night on the floor, amongst all the multi-coloured plastic building bricks, Neal had sent Peter a clear message that he wanted to be back with his mom, at his own home, the way things had been before. Peter sighed deeply, he didn't even know where that home was. He couldn't take Neal back there, even if he wanted to.

The agent swivelled in his seat and stared out the window into the mid-afternoon glare. He stared for the longest time, possibly hoping to find an answer somewhere in that void of nothingness between what he was gazing at and what his brain registered. He was thoroughly absorbed in that void when his brain registered the phone buzzing in his pocket.

Peter glanced at the caller ID before answering, "Hey hon?"

"Peter!" El's tone was frantic, "Neal's gone!"

"Gone?" Peter sprung out of his chair and had grabbed his keys, wallet, gun and badge without waiting for an explanation. He was in the elevator in record time, after telling Dianna on his way through the glass doors that he was heading home. "El, I need you to calm down and tell me exactly how long it's been since you saw him and where you've looked already."

By the time Peter was in the car, heading out of the FBI's parking garage, El had explained that Neal had fallen asleep on the couch while watching a documentary on African animals so she had covered him up and had gone down to the basement to tend to the washing. When she came back up about twenty minutes later, she had looked over, saw that the little boy remained snuggled under the blanket and went about fixing an afternoon snack. But when she went to wake him to come and eat, she was horrified to discover nothing more than a couple of cushions stuffed under the blanket and no Neal. According to El, she had raced around the house, checked every closet, under every bed, behind every door before phoning Peter so there was every chance it had been well over an hour since she'd last laid eyes on the little tyke.

Peter tried his best to reassure El that everything would be fine and that there was nothing to worry about while trying unsuccessfully to convince himself. An hour was a long time for a six year old to be off the radar, particularly one with all the troubles Neal had going on. The agent found a car space easily and bounded in through the front door in record time. Still, it had been a good twenty minutes since El's phone call meaning the youngster had now been missing for almost an hour and a half.

"Have you phoned anyone?" El didn't even bother greeting her husband, she was way too distressed for pleasantries.

"Hey hon," Peter wrapped his wife up in his arms and kissed the top of her head, "Take a deep breath for me will you. I'm going to take a quick look around, then I'll alert NYPD to have their patrols look out for a child of Neal's description." It wasn't going to be easy, school had been out for about half an hour and the streets were no doubt scattered with children making their way home. "As soon as I've made the call, I'm going to get in the car and drive around, but I want you to remain here just in case he returns."

"No," El shook her head while giving every indication by grabbing her coat and purse that she would be coming to. "I'm not staying here when I should be out looking. I'm the one who lost him."

Peter sighed and despite his training telling him to let it go, move on to the actual search and worry about handling the emotional fallout later, the agent took a moment to comfort his distraught wife. "Listen El," Peter pulled back the blanket on the couch to reveal the cushions, "You did not lose him. Neal has deliberately gone out of his way here to deceive you. He wanted you to think he was sleeping so he could make good his escape."

"Maybe Neal was using those cushions to cuddle up to, like he does with the toys on his bed," El's head was spinning and it was hard to see reason.

"Fair enough," Peter placated his wife, "But then he's gone and carried a chair across to the door," He indicated the dinning chair out of place beside the front door, "and I see the keys are still in the back of the lock, something I don't recall you ever doing before."

El took a deep, supposedly calming breath before conceding, "Well, maybe he did let himself out, but I should have been more vigilant. Oh, Peter…" El leaned in to her husband's chest, "what are-"

"Hello!"

Both Burkes spun at the sound of a knock at the front entrance and a young girl's voice breezing through the open door. It was Jessie.

Peter found his voice first, "Hey Jessie, come on through."

"Hello Mr Burke, Mrs Burke. Look who I found strolling along the sidewalk when I got off the bus at my stop." Jessie reached behind her and pulled her young friend in through the door.

"Neal!" El ran over and wrapped her little man up tightly in her arms. "Oh, Neal, I was so worried, I was so scared."

The little guy gave no indication he was listening. He stood quietly and allowed himself to be kissed and rubbed, appearing oblivious to all the fuss.

Peter patted Jessie gratefully on the top her arm, "Thank you so much Jessie. As you can see, we were very worried when we couldn't find Neal around the house. We were about to call the police so I appreciate you bringing him straight home. I'm going to call your mom and tell her how responsible you were this afternoon."

"Thank you Mr Burke," Jessie smiled proudly as she backed out the door, "I gotta go now, Mrs Wallis next door watches me till Mom gets home and there's a repeat of last night's Glee episode that I missed coming on. She's got cable."

Peter smiled at the young girl's enthusiasm and watched her head down the stairs before closing the door and turning his attention back to his own youngster. "Neal."

El felt the little boy stiffen in her arms as he responded to the previously unheard authoritive tone in the agent's voice.

"Where have you been?"…

…"_I'll ask you one more time, young man, where have-" Adele cut short her interrogation as she noticed that the bottom of the boy's jeans were wet, like he'd been standing in water. "Neal Carl Caffrey!" Adele stood over her young son with her hands on her hips, "If you have been to that duck pond all by yourself, you'll be sitting in that corner until you're an adult!"_

_Neal's mouth went wide as he realised he was petty much caught red handed, but then again, he was never one to give in without a fight, "I took my coat and beanie and I looked both ways before crossing the road."_

_Adele pursed her lips, shook her head and grabbed the youngster under his arm, hauling him over to the corner._

_Neal dropped the coat, gloves and beanie onto the floor and began to protest his innocence. "I didn't know you'd be back so soon."_

_Adele paused, "So you are telling me, that you only went out because you thought you could get back before I finished cleaning Mrs Macey's unit?"_

_Neal scratched his head while considering an answer that wasn't going to land him more time in the 'excruciation corner' as he called it. He couldn't read in the corner, he couldn't chat with his mom or play with Ruffles in the corner and worse of all, he couldn't draw in the corner._

"_Well…?"_

"_Uh, you normally take about an hour and I was only gone," Neal looked at his watch, "a bit over half."_

"_Neal," Adele allowed a deep breath to calm herself, "what did I tell you over breakfast this morning?"_

_The little boy dropped his head feeling somewhat ashamed, "That when you finished your jobs around the complex, you'd take me to feed the ducks after lunch."_

"_That's right baby. So why did you go this morning when you thought I was upstairs with Mrs Macey?"_

_Neal shrugged, "I dunno Momma."_

"_Maybe," Adele took a guess, "Maybe you couldn't stop thinking about going and got real excited and when you suddenly realised you had an opportunity, you took off thinking I'd never know."_

_Neal screwed up his little face and when he blinked, a couple of stray tears dripped out._

_Adele took the little boy's hands in hers, "Listen baby, you have to be more responsible than that. It's way too dangerous for a little boy to be walking around the streets by himself. What if the police saw you? What then? Plus, you went to the pond and you took your shoes off and stood in the water. It's a wonder your little toes didn't turn into icicles. And what if you'd fallen in, who would be there to rescue you?"_

_Neal lifted his arm and rubbed his eyes against the crook of his elbow to brush away what was quickly becoming a continuous flow of tears._

"_And Neal, walking the streets by yourself, trying to deceive Mommy, going to the pond and actually getting into the water, all of that was not the scariest part for me," Adele placed one hand on the side of the little boy's face, "The scariest part for me baby was that when I returned back here, you were gone. Imagine what that would be like for you if you came back here and Mommy was gone. You are the most important thing in the world to me Neal, you mean more to me than anything else, and when I saw you were gone, I became so scared. I didn't know where you were, I didn't know if you were hurt, if, if someone had taken you, maybe even taken you into the police station, for Mommy, it was the worst feeling in the whole world…And when someone loves you like I do, you shouldn't do something that makes them feel so scared."_

"_I'm sorry Momma," Neal wrapped his arms around his mother's waist and held tight as he shed more tears. "I won't go to the pond agin by myself, I promise."_

"_I'm happy to hear that baby," Adele kissed her boy on the cheek and patted his little head._

"_So Momma," Neal sniffled back the last of his tears, "Why were you back so early from old Mrs Macey's?"_

"_Mrs Macey's sister was visiting from out of town and they were enjoying a 'quiet cup 'o tea' from the homeland'. Mrs Macey asked if I could come back and finish the cleaning tomorrow so the vacuum didn't shatter their illusion."_

_Neal chuckled as he moved away to pick up his belongings off the floor, "Not that the noisy water heater of Mrs Macey's wouldn't have already."_

"_Neal…" Adele still retained one of the youngster's hands._

"_Yes Momma?" His bright blue puppy dog eyes gave no indication that he still considered himself in trouble._

"_What are our rules?"_

_"I can't leave our unit unless you know where I am." Neal remembered something and looked up hopefully, "But Momma, you let me go to the park by myself."_

"_That's across the street, Neal and I can see you from the windows upstairs and I only let you go there on weekends when there are lots of other kids around. Not in the middle of the day when they're all at school."_

"_I guess, " Neal grumbled as he dropped his head, unable to dispute the fact._

"_And guess what happens if you break those rules…"_

"_Momma…" Neal whined as his mom escorted him over to the corner and directed him to sit on the mat, "Can't I maybe clean the bathroom instead?"_

"_Neal, you are going to sit here and think about how your actions affect others and all the reasons why you shouldn't wander off."_

"_Are we still going to the duck pond after lunch, Momma?" The little boy looked up with hopeful eyes._

_Adele sighed in frustration and shook her head, "Oh Neal…" _

"Neal…" Peter sighed deeply while accepting that the boy wasn't about to acknowledge he was expected to respond let alone offer any kind of explanation. Shaking his head with frustration, the agent took another calming breath before crouching down to meet Neal at eye level, "Listen partner, we can't have you wandering off by yourself. It's too dangerous for a little guy like you to be out on the streets alone. You really scared Elizabeth and me. Please don't do it again." Peter ruffled the youngster's curls and kissed him atop of his head then climbed back onto his feet and checked with El that he had conveyed the message adequately.

El gave an appreciative, if not somewhat emotionally drained smile then took the little boy's hand, "Come on sweetie, let's go get your bath ready."

"I'll cut some veggies up for dinner, take your time," Peter called after the retreating pair as they headed up the stairs.

"Thanks hon. There are fresh tomatoes I picked from the garden this morning sitting beside the sink," El replied, her voice still shaky from the scare of having 'lost' their child. As Peter disappeared out of sight, she forced her unsteady legs to guide the little tyke into the bathroom. "Okay sweetie, off with your clothes."

While Neal was toeing off his shoes, El reaching in to put the plug in the tub and turned the water on till it felt just right. When she turned back, Neal had his hands on his shirt but was making no attempt to pull it off. "You need a hand with that, sweetie?" Without waiting for a reply, El grabbed a hold of the shirt and undershirt on both sides and yanked it up and over the youngsters head, getting a mighty fright when a box of pencils fell out and onto the bath mat at their feet. El stood staring at the brightly coloured pencil box, recognising it as the same set of pencils that had mysteriously appeared the day after their first shopping trip. She reached down to pick them up, "Why are you carrying these around, sweetie?"

Neal looked at the box but gave nothing away.

El shook her head, unable to fathom a reason herself. "I'll go put these away, you climb into the bath, I'll be straight back." El turned off the faucet and left the little boy to finish getting undressed while she took the pencils back into his room. She'd been going to set up a writing corner in the living area but the youngster seemed to prefer drawing in the corner of his room so she had got him a child sized desk and chair and tucked it next to the chest of drawers.

El put the pencil box on the table and started to head back to the bathroom when something in her brain clicked. She turned back and didn't know what to think when she realised there was a second set of coloured pencils, just like the one she'd just put down, sticking out of the drawer under the desk. She pulled out the box and laid it beside the other. Yes, they were identical, but while one box appeared to have wear and tear, the other box was clearly brand new. El opened the older box and sure enough, every pencil was worn down to the point that they were almost too short to use. She checked the other to confirm that those pencils, the newer set from Neal's shirt, were unused.

El stood with the pencils in her hand, putting all the pieces together in her head and came to the one and only possible logical conclusion - Neal had stolen a box of pencils at the mall last week when she'd stopped to get a jar of plum jam and this afternoon he had walked down to the mall and taken another box.

The new mother walked back into the bathroom and helped the youngster with his bath, all the while questioning her theory and trying to conjure up other possible scenarios. But nothing she came up with led to a different, less disturbing explanation. She was feeling somewhat dizzy with confusion and disbelief as she helped her little boy get dressed after his bath and watched with disturbed interest as the youngster made his way directly over to his new set of colours and begin colouring.

El left the child to happily colour and returned back down the stairs where Peter was waiting with glass of wine. He had a beer in one hand so the wine was obviously hers. She cuddled up beside him and took a long, appreciative sip. "Thanks hon."

"Thought you could do with something relaxing."

"You have no idea," El sighed deeply and leaned in closer to Peter's chest.

Peter wrapped his arm around his wife and kissed her head lovingly, "It all worked out in the end."

"But what if Jessie hadn't been there? What if it was someone else who had picked him up?"

"They didn't, he's home, he's safe, and we'll just make sure from now on we take every measure to make certain he can't simply leave whenever he wants." Peter put down his beer and ran his free hand through his hair, "If only I knew where he went…"

"I'm pretty sure I do."

Peter turned to face his wife and raised his eyebrows, "Yeah?"

"I think he may have gone to the mall."

The agent considered, "It's doable I guess. How long did it take you to walk home with him the other day, twenty minutes?"

"About that."

"Well, he certainly had enough time, but why the mall?"

"I think I know that too," El admitted sheepishly.

"Well 'Detective Burke'," Peter teased, "spit it out."

"The other day when we got back from the mall, Neal started drawing."

"Yeah, I remember, he was still drawing when I got home."

"Yes, he had a new box of pencils and I gave him some paper but I thought the pencils were from you-"

"And I told you they weren't."

"Yes, well I had a lot going on and I didn't think about it again but when I went up to put Neal in the bath, I helped him take off his clothes and discovered he had a box of pencils shoved between his shirt and undershirt. I checked in his room and found another box the same. I think he took the first box the last time we were at the mall together and I think he walked there today to steal more."

"Really?" Peter pushed up from the couch and began pacing, "Do you think he has some coloured pencil obsession, our new son is a drawing implement kleptomaniac?"

El tried hard not to laugh, despite the seriousness of the topic, "No hon, I think it was something as simple as his pencils were worn down too far and he needed a new set."

"And what, he couldn't just tell us he needed more?" Peter stopped doing laps of the living room and turned to his wife, "No need to say it…"

"It wasn't a stupid question. I mean, even if he didn't want to ask us for more pencils, surely it would have been easier to bring us an empty box than plan an escape and walk all the way to the mall and back."

"You'd think so wouldn't you. The whole thing doesn't make any sense," Peter's agent intuition was tapping out a code that he couldn't quite interpret. "There has to be more to it then simply needing new pencils….and sooner or later he's going to have to tell us."

###

El went upstairs to collect the little guy while Peter served out the dinner. Neal was right where she had left him, sitting at his desk, scribbling away with his pencils. El sat on the bed and watched him for a bit, running the discussion she'd had with Peter over and over in her head.

El glanced at the pencils he was using, the allegedly stolen pencils and hoped it wasn't a sign of things to come. She didn't want her little boy unable to reach his potential because he had a juvenile record. Not that it would happen as a five year old but if it became a habit, what would he be stealing when he was fifteen? Magazines? CDs? Ipads? Hopefully it would never come to that.

Snapping out of her thoughts, El startled. At some point while she'd been reminiscing, the little chap had made his way over, with the stealth of a cat, and was now standing directly in front of her. El took his little hands in hers unsure of what was going on. The youngster had never approached her before, for anything. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

Neal didn't have his usual vacant look. He appeared alert and purposeful as he stared into her eyes.

"What is it, sweetie?"

Neal looked around to make sure they were alone before refocusing his eyes back on Elizabeth. Then, on a day when so much had happened already, the small child spoke, "I'm sorry, Lizzybef." And with that, he reached forward and wrapped his arms around her neck for a loving hug.

El's mouth dropped open but no words came out. Now she was the one who was unable to talk. Instead, she lifted the little one up onto her lap and cradled him against her chest and held him tight so he couldn't see the tears that flowed uncontrollably from the corner of her eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Witness 7**

"El! Dinner's on the table!" Peter's voice hollered up the stairs, compelling the young mom to compose herself quickly before gathering up the youngster and leading him down to the dining room. Peter could tell she'd been crying, but didn't bring the topic up in front of the child. Instead, the new parents sat down with their little boy while pretending it had just been any other ordinary day.

El was desperate to tell Peter the wonderful news that Neal had not only spoken, but he'd initiated the interaction himself. Unfortunately, the first opportunity she had was after dinner when she sent Neal ahead to brush his teeth and to use the bathroom, telling him she'd be up in a minute to read him a story.

Peter was thrilled to hear to the news but also disappointed because the youngster had shown no change in behaviour during dinner. He'd been asked direct questions, which he made no attempt to respond to and was encouraged to join in the conversation but remained clammed up throughout the entire meal. Still, he had to be grateful for the progress, every word the child spoke was a step in the right direction.

Peter conceded that on both occasions he'd spoken, Neal had been with El. As he headed into the kitchen to pack the dishes away he considered it was high time daddy got a turn!

###

"And so the King married his princess and they both climbed onto the royal horse and trotted off into the sunset…" Peter timed it perfectly and strode into Neal's room just as El was finishing off the story. But rather than taking up his usual spot on the rocking chair, Peter detoured first and collected both boxes of pencils off the writing desk before sitting down. It didn't go unnoticed that the little guy watched his every move and as El put the book down and clambered off the bed, she couldn't help sensing reluctance in the youngster to do the same. "Come on, sweetie. Peter is waiting to give you a goodnight cuddle."

Neal appeared to give it some thought then with great hesitancy, climbed off the bed and moved towards Peter, obviously conscious of the fact that the boxes of pencils were now resting on the bedside table next to his chair.

Once he was within reach, Peter took the little boy's hands in his and pulled him close so he was standing in front. Peter wanted to be able to look at him while talking and once the child was on his lap, that option would be more difficult to achieve. "Neal," Peter moved the youngster's chin gently so they were meeting eye to eye, "I know you went to the mall today by yourself, but we've already talked about you running away, and Elizabeth told me that you told her you were sorry…" Neal's eyes went wide and his features paled as he spun his little head towards El. His expression spoke volumes - El could read nothing but betrayal all over the little one's face.

Her own eyes went wide with surprise, and she sat back down on the bed while trying to work out what she'd done wrong.

Peter watched the interaction, also confused by yet another new development in this emotionally charged day and made an executive decision to just concentrate on the issue at hand. "Neal, look at me please." Once again, Peter turned the youngster's head so they were facing each other. "Listen partner, I want to talk to you about stealing." Peter reached over and picked up the pencil boxes and held up his exhibit in front of the little guy before continuing. "I know you took these from the shop Neal, without paying for them. That's called stealing." Neal stared at the pencil boxes and refused to look at Peter. "If you take something and don't pay for it, you can get in trouble. If big people steal, they can get in trouble with the police and sometimes they even have to go to jail. Little kids don't get sent to jail, but they still get into trouble. El and I, we don't want you to get into trouble Neal so no more stealing." Peter put the pencils down and lifted the boy onto his lap, turning him as much as he could so they were almost facing each other. "If you want something partner, you can ask. El would have bought the pencils for you, I would have. We won't always get you whatever you want but you should ask us anyway, okay?"

Neal's expression had reverted back to that same old vacant look but Peter hoped some of his lecture had sunk in regardless. "Alright then kiddo, it's been a big day for all of us, time to close your eyes and go to sleep." Peter pulled the child gently against his chest and began to rock.

Taking that as her cue, El hoped up off the bed and switched the light off on her way out, just as she heard Peter begin to hum one of his heart-warming lullabies.

###

It took longer than on previous occasions to rock the youngster to sleep and by the time Peter made it back into his own room, El was stretched out lengthways across the bed, sound asleep on top of the blankets, fully dressed. He didn't want to wake her but he knew she'd regret it in the morning after no doubt experiencing an uncomfortable and restless night. "Come on hon," Peter nudged her caringly but when he got no response he went for a firmer shake, "El, up you get!"

El shook her head and grumbled something inaudible.

Peter rolled his eyes, slid his arm under El's shoulder and pulled her into an upright position. "Come on El, get into your pyjamas, I'll get the bed ready."

Finally El sighed deeply and pushed herself onto her feet. She trudged over to the dresser and leaned heavily against its corner feeling so completely drained that even talking was an effort in itself. Nevertheless, she couldn't help asking as she slipped her dress up and over her head, "Did you see the way Neal looked at me. I think he was quite shocked I told you that he'd spoken."

"Yes I noticed, who knows what's going on in that little brain of his. But whatever it may be, at some point he has to accept that he _should_ talk. I think he just needs to learn to trust us both….Don't let it get to you hon...It's been a crazy day for everyone."

El had a big yawn, "Do you think there's any chance that tomorrow will be a nice easy uneventful day? I mean, surely you only get a bear like this one once in a blue moon?"

Peter turned down the blankets and dropped back down onto the crisp cotton sheets, wanting nothing more than to stretch out across them just like he'd found El. Unfortunately, he knew from experience that El skipped the gentle nudging stage and went straight into the rapid shaking so it was hardly worth the trouble. With a few too many creaks in the ole knee bones, Peter clambered back up again, and moved to stand behind his wife, leaning in close to lovingly caress her bare shoulder with his lips. "I'm sure tomorrow's going to be a cake walk. We got all the craziness out of the way today. I can't see that we've left anything for tomorrow. I predict tomorrow will be quite unremarkable, a day of ho hum nothingness…" Peter spun El so they were facing while continuing to kiss around her ear and neck, "And I also predict…"

"Why Agent Burke, you're turning into quite the psychic?" El gave a small smile while tilting her head to allow for easier access.

"I also can see in my little crystal ball that tomorrow is the day that Neal is going to start talking to me… after all, it's my turn!"

El wrapped her arms around Peter's neck and kissed him back. "I suppose if you're lucky I'll share and give you a turn."

"It's not up to you hon. It was my prediction." Peter watched on as his wife unbuttoned his shirt and reached for his buckle.

"Can you use your psychic deductive powers to guess what I'm thinking of now?"

Peter smirked and pulled them both over towards the bed. His powers of prediction for El's intentions were spot on. Unfortunately, as far as his crystal ball forecasts went for the following day, well, he wasn't even in the same ballpark. Unfortunately, he and El were about to wake up to a day that was just full of surprises.

###

"Morning hon," Peter dragged his feet across the living room floor and kissed his beautiful wife before dropping himself onto a dining chair. Without asking, El went into the kitchen and returned with a steaming hot mug of coffee. Peter watched on with admiration as his wife flittered about, collecting jams, croissants, side plates and cutlery, which she arranged on the table in only the way El could. "What's got you so chirpy this morning, honey? This coffee is supreme," Peter took a long appreciative sip, "the croissants look mouth-watering, and…" Peter lifted up the folded paper beside his coffee mug, "you even collected my paper from the porch…And all I'm doing is sitting here thinking, 'Can we do this every morning'!"

El laughed and came behind her husband so she could lean down and wrap her arms around his shoulders. "It's hardly a secret hon. Last night I had a psychic tell me that this was sure to be a day of bliss – no scares, no troubles, no hassles, no worries. And so I thought…" El rested her chin on Peter's shoulder, "I'd get this perfect day off to a perfect start."

"Did the psychic say all that?" Peter didn't want to be responsible for giving his wife a false sense of security. " You know, those crystal balls have been known to be faulty at times. I heard that there was a whole batch of faulty ones on the market that had arrived from China last month."

El slapped her husband lightly across his arm and returned to her side of the table, selecting the largest croissant off the tray and smothering it with butter and jam, while commenting casually, "Neal's having a nice sleep in." Usually the youngster was up as soon as he heard activity in the bathroom but when El went in to check on him, he was still sleeping soundly.

"Yeah," Peter picked up his paper with one hand so he didn't have to relinquish his hold on the coffee. "It was a big day for the little guy yesterday. A sleep in should do him the world of good. If he'd not up before I leave for work though, I'll have to wake him. I want to remind him of what I said last night about running off and stealing."

El nodded in agreeance and went about devouring her sweet pastry. Peter turned his attention back to the morning paper knowing full well how fast the time went when you were trying to steal those final fifteen minutes before it was time to get ready for work in earnest. The agent sighed deeply after checking the clock on the wall and told himself he'd have to leave the crossword for his lunch break later in the day. Instead, he scanned the headlines on the front page, lifted his cup to his lips to polish off the last couple of mouthfuls before flipping over the page.

And then the coffee came back out again, all over the newspaper. El looked up startled to see what looked like a bad spit-take skit straight from a comedy routine.

"Peter…?"

The agent plonked his mug down and wiped his sleeve across his mouth, trying to remove some of the coffee droplets that had sprayed every which way. Peter suspected some would have no doubt accosted his beautiful wife.

El hadn't seem to care about the coffee mess, instead she inquired with alarm, "Peter…what's wrong?"

Peter used the napkin to wipe across the page of the paper that had suffered the full brunt of the coffee spray then lifted the newspaper, folded it back and turned it towards his wife.

Had El been drinking at the time, it would have been the second spit-take of the morning but luckily she had already swallowed what was in her mouth leaving her free to speak. Regrettably, she couldn't find any words. Her mouth opened but nothing came out so Peter took the lead….

"Recognise her?"

El nodded then found her voice, "Of course, at least I'm pretty sure I do…It's a good likeness if it's not her. Peter…what's going on?"

The agent turned the page back so he could see it once more. Taking up more than half of page three, where the less serious, human interest stories were often found, was a large photo of a community notice board – undoubtedly the one at the Burke's local mall, and in the middle of the notice board was a missing poster. Not the missing dog poster that had been there days before, but a missing mom poster. In big bold letters surrounding a drawing of a twenty-something woman were the words, "HAVE YOU SEEN MY MOMMY?" The drawing was clearly of Adele. Peter had seen her photo enough times to know – the Crimes Division had some pretty clear recent photos they had been using to try and track Adele down when she was wanted for questioning. There was no doubt that the lady in drawing was Adele – same wavy dark, auburn hair, same piercing blue eyes as young Neal and just in case that wasn't enough to give the game away, Adele had a very distinguishable birth mark just above her left eye, just like the woman in the drawing. The title of the article read, 'What have we really lost?' and there was a short story about the world losing touch of what was important and how could a child be so desperate and neglected that they would have to resort to sticking up missing mommy posters. Peter didn't know what to be more shocked about, that his new son was so skilled an artist that he was able to masterfully depict his mother so precisely in the poster or that his son's wanted poster had made page three news!

The agent didn't have a chance to consider his answer or time to respond to El because they were suddenly interrupted by several loud knocks on the front door. Both Peter and El were startled momentarily then they jumped up in unionism and strode purposefully to the front door. Peter pulled it open to reveal a stunned looking Rachel holding a copy of the morning paper. Without saying a word, she held up page three for inspection and Peter in turn did the same with his own copy that he held in his hand.

"Yours has more coffee stains than mine," Rachel deadpanned before moving in through the door so Peter could shut it behind her.

"What's this all about?" El's head was spinning. It wasn't supposed to be spinning. This was her day of bliss. _Damn the psychic and his faulty crystal ball!_

"I was about to ask the same question, El." Rachel smiled and patted her friend's arm supportively. "I was sitting down for breakfast, in the middle of my morning caffeine fix, I turned the page and woe and behold! There's a drawing of Adele Caffrey! And I take it from the deer in the headlights look on both your faces that you're as shocked as I was?"

"Yes," Peter directed the little group over to the couch to take a seat, "We're just trying to piece it altogether. Yesterday…" he hated to bring it up but it was obviously an integral part of the mystery, "as you know from when I called you last night Rachel, Neal went missing and Jessie brought him home. We worked out later that he'd been to the mall…it's a long story but he had some pencils that we're pretty sure he stole from one of the shops there."

Rachel looked concerned but not shocked nor surprised by the revelation.

"Anyway, it seems that going back to the mall - he'd been there last week with El, to steal another box of pencils wasn't his only motive. It looks like he also went there to pin up a missing poster for his mom."

"Yeah, I remember now," El sat forward and waved her hands as she spoke, "when we were there the first time, he took a lot of interest in a missing poster for a puppy. I thought he was thinking it was Satchmo because it was a yellow lab so I told him not to worry, the puppy belonged to someone else's family who also lived in Brooklyn…. Then we moved on and I never gave it another thought."

"Seems like someone else did," Rachel shook her head. "If only we had a magic scanner to read what was going on in these kids' head, half our problems would never come to fruition."

"And where would be the fun in that," Peter tried to sound cheeful, "Besides, if there were any such device, us agents would get first dibs. Imagine our success rate if we could read our suspects before they committed the crime."

"I think they made a movie about that…"

"Peter," El who'd zoned out of the scanner exchange suddenly stood, alarming the other two into ceasing their harmless banter and returning to the reason the topic was being discussed in the first place.

"What is it hon?" Peter stood and put his arm on his wife's shoulder.

"Uh, I just had a scary thought." El looked towards the stairs to make sure they were still alone and lowered her voice, "Adele's killer is still out there. What if whoever it was, also sees Neal's poster in the paper? What if they come after Neal?"

Peter shook his head and pulled his wife in close, "They won't hon. I would imagine that Adele's killer is long gone and even if he's not, I won't let anything happen to our little guy…not to him, not to you, not to any of us."

"Are we even sure Neal drew the picture?" Rachel was trying hard to piece together all the facts, "I mean, that was a damn accurate drawing."

"Maybe it wasn't Neal's after all, Peter," El had to concur with her friend. "You know all those other drawings Neal did…they were just a jumble of shapes and scribbles."

Peter shook his head, "No they weren't El. In fact…" he let go of his wife and turned for the stairs, not bothering to wait to see if the two young women would follow on his heals – he already knew with certainty that they would. Peter stepped quietly into his son's room, hoping not to awaken the sleeping youngster, and moved over to the writing table. He reached into the drawer without having to open it all the way and pulled out a pile of A4 sheets then moved back out into the hall where both El and Rachel where waiting expectantly.

Peter pulled the door to so there was only a slight crack and then whispered an explanation, "When I looked at these, I could tell they were not just random scribbles." He passed a couple of pages to El and another couple to Rachel then examined the ones that remained in his own hands. "You see this," Peter pointed to one of the drawings that looked mostly like a dark rectangle with some white patches on the bottom half and a couple of more shapes. "What does that look like there?"

El and Rachel leaned in for a closer inspection then the children's welfare officer hazard a guess, "Uh, it kind of looks like a shoe."

"Not just kind of Rachel, look," Peter pointed to a spot, "across what I imagine is the sole of the shoe… there's a word, 'Timberland'. And look," Peter flipped to the next page, "What do you think that is El?"

The young woman shook her head, "I don't know…uh, looks like a mess."

"It's broken glass," Rachel pointed, "and there's the base of the lamp. It's a broken lamp, but what's this big brown rectangle?" Rachel pointed to the mass of brown that was dominating most of the drawings.

"I think…"Peter turned the page this way and that, "You know I think it might be a couch, and…" Peter checked the pages in the other's hands before continuing, "all these pictures show different angles but all of the drawings are from the perspective of what someone would see if they were lying on the floor behind a couch. I think this is what Neal saw, I think this is what he is seeing in his head."

"What does it all mean, Peter?" El looked at the drawings trying to sort it all out in her own head.

"I think," Peter whispered, "That Neal saw what happened to his mom, I think he was hiding behind the couch, and these drawings are what he saw."

"If that's the case, Peter," Rachel expressed gravely, "your son may be in some serious danger."

"Why?" El asked as she felt the blood drain from her face.

"Because," Peter pushed open the door to the child's bedroom to ensure the little guy was still out to it, giving all three adults the opportunity to settle their gaze onto the sleeping form. "Because, Neal saw what happened. Adele was murdered and Neal…" Peter didn't want to say it, didn't want to make it real but El was fixing him with a stare waiting for a response, "Honey...Neal is a witness."


	8. Chapter 8

Everything became much more serious after that, as if the situation wasn't already grim enough to start with! The likely prospect of Neal being a witness to murder, or at the very least, the preceding incidents that had led to Adele Caffrey's murder stepped everything up a level to that of official procedures and considerable security. And while it had always been on the cards that Neal knew something - that he had some information buried deep down that may be of use in finding the killer, he'd been left out of the investigation because of his ongoing psychological issues. The fact that he wouldn't even so much as utter a single word or show recognition of any photos laid out before him made him of little use to the investigators. But with the publication of Adele's picture in the paper, Neal's involvement in the case stepped him up to a level of viable witness.

Peter contemplated the new arrival across the dining table as Agent Vanessa Dowling scribbled down notes and studied Neal's drawings. Peter had his arm wrapped protectively around his young son and worked to keep his attention focused on the Lego pieces sprawled across the table and not on what the FBI agent was doing. Neal kept setting up the Lego blocks like dominos and each time he set them off, it resulted in Agent Dowling flinching from the unexpected noise. The middle-aged woman was friendly and patient but was seriously out of her element around the youngster. When she'd first looked at the drawings done by the young boy, she had looked at Peter as if to say, _'Are you out of your mind? There's nothing here,_' but soon discovered a multitude of accurate details that would be useful for the prosecution. Agent Dowling had asked Neal various questions but soon learned that she may as well be talking to the dog lazing about at her feet.

El had gone with Rachel to the mall to collect the missing mom poster, figuring it didn't need any additional attention, or a follow up story from the newspaper once the locals jumped on the bandwagon. Agent Dowling's partner was sitting out the front in his car, not for surveillance purposes but because Peter suggested that one new face in the room would be intimidating enough for young Neal.

"Neal," Agent Dowling spoke as softly as her non-existing maternal side allowed, "Can you tell me where this room was?" She held up one of the few drawings that was not from behind the couch. This one had a picture of a window with the curtains drawn. Neal kept playing with his blocks as though no one had even spoken and the young woman looked across at Peter in exasperation and almost pleaded with her eyes for him to step in and take over. Peter didn't expect he could do any better but he gave it a shot anyway…

"Neal, look at me partner." Peter took the blocks out of the youngster's hands and pushed them out of reach before turning him in his chair so they were facing each other. When he considered he had the boy's attention, he continued, "Neal, can you tell me where you lived? Where was this building? What did it look like from the outside?"

The little tyke sat silently for the next few minutes, either contemplating an answer or just totally blanked out, Peter couldn't tell which. Eventually, after what seems like the longest three minutes in the world to Agent Downey, Neal reached out and pulled the blocks back close then began to piece them together.

The young agent rolled her eyes and began to pack up her belongings but Peter held up his hand signalling her to wait. She didn't know why but she sat down anyway and observed the young boy as he created several rectangular prisms and stood them side by side. "This is where Neal lived," Peter explained, pointing out the taller building in the middle.

Agent Dowling resisted the urge to burst out laughing thinking she was glad her partner was tucked safely away in his car outside – for sure he would have made fun of her somehow. This interview was certainly one of the more surreal experiences she'd had lately. "Uh…so, that's where you were living Neal?"

It was Peter's turn to roll his eyes and he held up a finger indicating there was more. He reached behind to the sideboard and found a sheet of blank paper and a pencil that he placed in front of his son. "Neal, can you draw for me what your building looks like from the outside."

The youngster looked across towards the front window then set about scribbling on the page. Before too long there was a fairly descript brown stone perhaps ten stories high.

Agent Dowling checked her watch, she really wasn't getting anywhere here despite the emerging artistic talents of the six year old mute sitting across from her. There was probably nothing else left to do except arrange for witness protection and monitor any new developments if the child began to talk at some point in the future. She packed her gear into her brief case and came to stand around the other side of the table, to offer a polite acknowledgement of the youngster's creation when she was suddenly drawn to the details. The boy had marked in a building number, a street sign and even an alleyway beside the building.

"Uh…" Vanessa crouched down to the boy's level and pointed at the building, "You lived here Neal?"

The little guy reached across to the Lego pile and selected two mini figures that he placed on the bottom street level window, to the left of the entry doors.

"I'd say you've found your crime scene, Agent Dowling," Peter whispered behind Neal's back.

The young agent didn't know what to say, instead she just stared curiously down at the top of Neal's head while considering, 'What else is in there, little boy?'

###

Peter stood out front of the brownstone apartment block taking in the surrounds, hoping it would lead to some unanswered questions or at the very least solve part of the mystery that trailed his young son. As soon as El had arrived back from the mall, Peter and Agent Dowling had headed off in search of the Caffrey's last known place of residence leaving Vanessa's partner, Troy to stand guard at the Burke residence.

Peter couldn't help staring at the faded wanted poster on the outside glass panel advertising for a on-site maintenance manager, and thinking how unappealing that thankless task would be.

Agent Dowling rang at least half dozen buzzers before finally hearing the telltale click of the door release. The agents strode into the foyer of the aging building and were met by an elderly gentleman who was way too grumpy after being woken so rudely from his midday nap. Vanessa removed a photo of Adele Caffrey from her coat pocket and held it up for inspection. "Sorry to bother you sir but do you recognise this woman?"

"Yeah. Unreliable. She was supposed to repair my leaking faucet but what do you know, it's still dripping away, day and night…"

"So she lived here?" Peter had little tolerance for the old codger.

"Yeah, that basement room down there," the old man indicated with her eyes. "Crammed in there with that kid of hers. No wonder he was always wandering off. I'd hear her shouting, Neal, Neal, where are you Neal, day and night…"

Vanessa looked at Peter - they had the right place. Neal had been amazingly accurate with his drawing. "So…Neal's mom…she had a name?"

"Course she had a name," the old man really was a grumpy old bastard, "Carter…Julie Carter. She was the maintenance manager here till she cleared off. Now we got no one to fix the leaky taps."

_You could try damn well fixing it yourself_, Peter wanted to say but his FBI training had taught him better. Instead he asked, "How long ago did Ms Carter and her son move out?"

The old man considered, "I don't remember, maybe two months back. Two months and no takers for the maintenance position. You'd think someone would want it. Young people today, they want everything to be just jiffy or it's not good enough for them."

"Can we see inside her room?" Vanessa had all the info she needed from the old guy.

"Help yourself. I don't have a key but it's not locked. Went down to bash on her door when she didn't come to fix my tap but it just pushed straight open. She couldn't even be bothered locking up when she left. Even left the pieces of her busted lamp all over the floor."

"And no one thought to ring the police?" If the resident hadn't been elderly, Peter may have considered punching him in the face.

"Why? What would we have said? Our maintenance lady didn't turn up to fix my leaking faucet? They would have yelled at me or laughed at me and I'm not stupid enough to get involved."

"Yeah, good-"

"Thanks for your assistance sir," Vanessa interrupted before Peter said something he regretted. "We'll let ourselves out."

###

This first thing Peter saw from the doorway almost tore his heart in two. A brightly decorated drawing with the words 'I love you Momma' printed ever so lovingly across the width of the page was attached to the fridge with magnets. The agent swallow hard, pulled on his gloves and stepped into a world that had once belonged to his son.

No one had moved out of this apartment, no one had even packed up and left in a hurry. The residents of the building all assumed Adele, or rather, 'Julie' and Neal cleared out leaving a dust trail in their wake, but to Peter and Vanessa, all evidence was to the contrary.

The living area was splattered with the remnants of a table lamp, which both agents carefully manoeuvred around on their way past to investigate for any clues. The small dining table was covered in crayons and drawings, there were coffee mugs turned upside down beside the sink, a can of tinned spaghetti sitting beside the stove, and a ladies purse with a set of house keys laying conspicuously on the kitchen bench. No, the occupants of this unit had not left in a hurry of their own accord, they had been removed...against their will.

In the bedroom, Agent Dowling discovered Adele's handbag and personal documents tucked away in the bedside drawers. Peter squeezed past and lifted a framed photo from its spot beside the bed. It was of Adele carrying Neal on her hip, standing with a pond and ducks in the background. The little tyke appeared to be at least a year younger than what he was now…and a whole lot happier. In the photo Neal was grinning from ear to ear, even his eyes were smiling. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat while hoping that his little boy would one day smile again.

Peter replaced the photo frame back in its place and picked up one tucked in behind it. Neal was sitting behind a birthday cake about to blow out the four candles and a man in his late twenties, early thirties was looking on proudly. It had to be Carl. Perhaps it was the last photo ever taken of father and son because according to the records, the time frame for Carl's demise had to have been soon after. The agent continued investigating. The bedroom was tiny. The double bed was pushed against one wall and there was only a narrow walking space between the free side and the closet. Peter opened the closet expecting half the contents of a house to come tumbling out but the inside was surprisingly sparse. There was a meagre selection of ladies clothes, mostly well worn casual pieces – nothing overly flash, hanging up and a small pile of boys clothing stacked up on the only shelf that wasn't empty. A six year old boy had lived in this room and yet, not an electronic game, not sporting equipment, not even a toy to be seen. Peter shut the doors and leaned his head sadly against the unpainted wood. His little boy had done it tough, and yet he longed for nothing more than to have it all back again. It would seem his six year old son had already learned what some people never did, even after a lifetime, that material possessions had nothing on genuine love and belonging.

The couch pressed against the wall under the street level window that faced out into the alley had to be the same piece of furniture depicted in all of Neal's drawings - not that there were many alternate choices. The room was all but empty and excepting for a two setting dining table pushed up against the kitchen counter, the couch was the only piece of furniture in the room. There wasn't even a television. Peter crouched down at the side of the couch and wondered sadly if this had been the very spot his little boy had witnessed his mother's demise.

Agent Dowling wasted no time getting on the phone to arrange for a forensic team to come do a sweep of the one bedroom unit. It was unlikely they'd find much. Apart from the broken lamp, everything else looked to be in order and both agents agreed that it was doubtful the murder had taken place inside this run down basement apartment. Adele had died from a gunshot wound and it appeared that there was neither evidence of blood splatter nor the remnants of a freshly cleaned room. Peter had to be grateful for small mercies – if his son had been hiding behind the couch when his mother was taken, it seemed he was fortunate enough to be spared the unfathomable horror of watching her being shot.

###

"That the kid?" Senior Agent Reece Hughes asked in his gruff, no-nonsense voice as he stood beside his 2-I-C on the mezzanine level overlooking the bull pen of the White Collar Division.

"Yep, that's my little guy," Peter replied proudly as he watched his young son wander inquisitively between the desks of the junior agents, alternating between studying the comings and goings of the agents and examining various objects around the office. The junior agents were quite taken in with the youngster, and even though Neal didn't respond to any of their questioning, they persisted at trying to get him to interact, if only so they didn't have to return their attention back to the mundane tasks on their desks.

"He's a handful." It wasn't a question.

Peter refrained from rolling his eyes. There were some days he believed his boss was born an old man. It was difficult to imagine the senior agent as a spritely young whippersnapper. "He's a good kid, Reece."

"He's a good kid but he has to be here, so you can keep a close eye on him in case he runs off?"

Peter sighed, "Something like that." It had been three days since the missing mommy poster in the paper incident and Peter had stayed home from the office to assure not only El, but himself of his family's safety. The violent crimes division had offered to post an officer at the Burkes until the case was settled but Peter had informed the agents that it wouldn't be necessary – he would never let anything happen to Neal.

Peter had spent time going over all the security protocols with his wife, but El's biggest concern, and it wasn't without merit, was that Neal might just sneak out the front door when no one was looking and become an easy target for Adele's killer if he believed Neal was capable of making an identification. And even though Neal hadn't attempted to leave the house since their discussion, Peter's solution was to attach a monitoring bracelet to the child's ankle, if nothing more than for peace of mind. The lightweight electronic device was synchronized to the Burke's home and had been set to sound an alarm on Peter's phone if the bracelet moved beyond the boundary of the house. El felt more at ease once the monitoring device was in place but was far from convinced and kept saying that she couldn't help thinking something bad was about to happen.

Peter all but jumped through hoops to placate El but the young woman was becoming restless and emotional no matter what additional security measures were put in place. After sitting back and watching El have one mini break down after another, Peter suspected his wife was going stir-crazy from the stress and anxiety of being cooped up for three days with all the worries associated with the reason for their confinement so he enlisted Rachel's assistance to take El into the city for the day to do whatever it was that women enjoyed doing when they had the whole day to themselves and someone else footing the bill.

With El taken care of, Peter took the opportunity to head into the bureau to catch-up with his team and collect some more case files to bring back to the house. The outing into the office with Neal had a dual purpose. Peter had been busting to 'show off' Neal and it also allowed his young charge the freedom to stretch his legs and explore within the safe confines of the white collar bull-pen.

"Didn't have electronic monitoring gadgets back in my day."

Peter shifted his eyes sideways and smiled at his boss while wondering just how many years back, Reece's day was!

"Parents didn't need anklet bracelets to know where we were. We didn't wander off because we knew we'd get a damn good walloping if we did."

"Isn't that your ten o'clock?" Peter was thrilled to have an opportunity to redirect and change the subject before Reece got too much of a role on raving about kids today and how there's no discipline left in the world!

"Yeah…" the older man checked his watch. "And they're ten minutes late."

"How rude," Peter mumbled sarcastically, "it's not like narcotics could possibly have had any other cases to take care of this morning."

"Don't you have cases of your own to tend to…and a wayward son to chase after." Reece headed over to the stairs to greet the three narcotics detectives as they made their way towards the conference room.

Peter shook his head and laughed. Reece really did love playing the gruff, uncaring old grouch but Peter knew that deep down, the senior agent would be the first to put his life on the line for those he cared about when it came to the crunch.

Peter turned his eyes away from Reece and down to the little man he cared so much about. Neal was standing over in the lunch room area, his little arm resting on a newspaper. But the little boy wasn't looking at the newspaper, which came as somewhat of a relief to Peter, particularly in light of all the trouble the newspaper has brought forth in the past couple of days. No, Neal wasn't looking at the newspaper, he wasn't looking at the crackers sitting beside the coffee pot, he wasn't even looking at the young female agent who had just walked by and had patted him on the head. Peter followed Neal's line of vision to the narcotics agents who had stopped to chat with Reece at the top of the stairs. Neal was staring, fixated, but it appeared to Peter to be much more than just an inquisitive gaze. It was like the youngster was in some type of trance. Peter moved towards the stairs, excusing himself as he passed the small group standing on the landing and made his way down towards his little boy without taking his eyes off him. As he approached, Peter noticed Neal's face paling and an unmistakable mask of fear settling on his normally blank features. The agent crouched down and took a pair of fragile shaky hands in his own. "What's wrong partner?"

The agent watched on with alarm as Neal lifted his arm and pointed his index finger in the direction of the men standing with Reece outside the conference room. Peter recalled some dealings with two of them - Detectives Murdoch and Stiler, sometime in the past when cases had overlapped. He turned back to his son and used his own large hand to cover up the child's incriminating finger, somewhat horrified by the insinuation if that's what it was. It certainly looked like it from where Peter stood. He pushed himself back up from his crouching position, pulling his son up and onto his hip as he went. When Neal leaned into the agent, Peter could feel nervous vibrations emanating all over the youngster's body.

"Neal…" Peter adjusted the child on his hip so he could look him in the eye, "Do you know those men standing up talking to Agent Hughes?"

The little boy glanced over at the mezzanine, back to Peter then…he took his tiny hand and slipped it into Peter's empty gun holster, then pulled out his fingers that had formed a deliberate shape – thumb up in the air, index finger pointing straight ahead and the other three fingers curled underneath. The symbolic gun rendered Peter speechless and before he could comment, Neal twisted on Peter's hip and turned his 'gun' towards the men on the stairs. Peter once again was forced to 'cover-up' his witnesses statement and he pushed Neal's arm back down, tucking it gently against his side.

Peter studied the narcotics officers to see if they'd been paying any attention but the detectives appeared caught up in their discussion with Hughes. The anxious father took a deep breath then began scanning the lunch room, spotting immediately, exactly what he was seeking - a hat that had been kicking around ever since the last staff party that no-one seemed to be bothered claiming. Peter picked up the fedora, pushed it down over his little boy's head and whisked the child out of the office without a backwards glance, taking off through the glass doors and down the stairs… all the while strategizing how the hell he was going to wade through the can of worms that had just been dumped at his feet.


	9. Chapter 9

Elizabeth sat on the porch watching her little boy roam aimlessly around the backyard. Occasionally Neal would bend down to pick up a stick or a small stone only to drop it straight back down again, unseemingly interested in anything or anyone. He was still sporting the trendy black fedora Peter had decked him out with back at the bureau, which made it almost impossible to gage his expression. Not that El needed to see his little face to know the youngster would be wearing the same vacant look that had becomehis set appearance.

Satchmo sat at El's feet, enjoying the tummy rub she was giving him with her toes. She couldn't understand why Neal wasn't taken in by the yellow lab, couldn't work out why he showed very little interest in the puppy. El had envisioned Neal running around the yard, playing fetch with the pup, cuddling up to him on the floor in the living room, snatching the lead out of her hand when they took Satch for walks around the block but Neal had done no such thing, which understandably had come as a bit of a letdown for the new parent. El had hoped that their placid, affectionate family pet would break through the barriers that her and Peter could not. Unfortunately, poor old Satchmo got no more affection returned his way than El or Peter.

El observed sadly as Neal meandered indiscriminately with no direction and no interest. It was as though he were a prisoner let out for his one hour designated exercise in the yard. El had to admit that analogy wasn't too far off the truth. She had brought the little tyke out back so the assembly of agents, officers and attorneys that had converged on her dining room could chat in private without the worry of being overheard by innocent little ears.

It had not been more than two hours since Peter had phoned her in the middle of ordering a couple of cappuccinos, pre-empting his conversation with an apology for spoiling her day off. After briefly explaining what had come to light at the Bureau, Peter had asked if she would mind returning home. Of course, Rachel and her were sitting in a cab travelling back home long before Peter had even completed his request.

Upon arriving home, El had naturally been slightly startled to walk in to see several official faces, some totally unfamiliar, look up from their serious discussion. Peter took Rachel and her aside and explained in detail what he was unprepared to do over the phone. After managing to squeeze in a couple of dozen questions in record time, El collected Neal from his room where he was drawing, and headed outside for a 'play', leaving Rachel with the investigating team as the child's welfare representative.

El scratched Satch behind his ears while hoping the group inside could sort out soon what they going to do about this latest development. She looked across at the little guy wearily wondering how many more laps he could do of the yard before he indicated he wanted to be returned to his 'cell'.

###

"Neal," Peter called the youngster's name from the back door while giving the two finger point.

"What's happening, hon?" El stood up and approached her husband while checking that their little boy was still out of ear-shot.

"We're going to ask Neal to do a drawing of the suspects. If that turns out to be in anyway indicative of the detectives he pointed out at the Bureau, then internal affairs is going to proceed with building their case for the prosecution. Seems agents Murdoch and Stiler have been under investigation for some time now but there's been nothing concrete, only circumstantial evidence."

"But Neal didn't see their faces," El whispered as she watched her son approaching.

"Well, that's what we thought but…El if you'd seen his little face when the agents walked past…he was terrified…and…he knew why he was terrified. Neal has seen at least one of these men holding a gun. He saw more than just their shoes from under the couch."

"Even if he did," El pointed past Peter and into the dining room, "You're expecting him to sit at that table in front of several intimidating adults and sketch a drawing of his mother's killer?"

"El," Peter pulled his wife in for a hug, hoping to quell her rising emotions, "No honey, it's just going to be me, Rachel and Agent Dowling, everyone else has been sent packing….Hey partner!" Peter released his wife and crouched down to the little tyke who'd just stepped up onto the porch, "I'd love it if you could come and do some more drawings for me. Remember a few days back when I got you to do a drawing for Vanessa of your…your other home, well, she was so impressed I was hoping you could do another couple of drawings for her today."

Neal looked at Peter, then he poked his little head around the corner and spotted Vanessa and Rachel sitting at the table. When his eyes landed on Rachel, his gazed flickered around the room, supposedly looking for Jessie.

"Jessie is still at school," Peter quickly worked out what the little guy was looking for, "but if you like, I'm sure Rachel can bring her around later and you can do some drawings for her too." Neal didn't give any response but Peter continued on as if he had been given a green light, "Come on then partner, let's show these ladies just how talented you are."

###

Rachel and Vanessa sat gobsmacked. Lying before them were two amazingly accurate sketches of Agents Murdoch and Stiler. Neal had been so detailed with his drawings that there was no question about the identity of the two detectives he had recognised at the Bureau. After he completed his works of art, El had taken the little artist upstairs for a bath to give the others time to discuss their next course of action.

"So will Neal be expected to identify these agents at a line up?" Rachel asked Vanessa the question but it was Peter that answered.

"Perhaps eventually he will but at the moment, there's not enough evidence to make an arrest. So far all we have is Neal identifying two NYPD detectives. The defence will state that the boy recognised the detectives anywhere from passing them on the street to his dad shooting hoops with them before he passed on. Until Neal can actually tell us something, we're going to need more concrete evidence from elsewhere."

"So these men, these suspected killers are going to be on the loose?" Rachel's face expressed her inner anxiety.

"We can't bring the detectives in for a questioning yet." Agent Dowling packed the drawings away into her briefcase before addressing Rachel's concerns. "We want them to carrying on, business as usual and hopefully they'll slip up and when they do, we can take them down. Also, with a bit of good luck, the forensic team may find something at the Caffrey's apartment. There was a struggle…maybe a hair, maybe a clothing fibre…there was a broken lamp so possibly a blood stain on the glass…Maybe we'll get lucky and find the evidence we need to make a conclusive case against these detectives, but as I'm sure Agent Burke can attest to, it won't be happening overnight."

"Rachel," Peter reached out and took the young woman's hand to reassure her, "Before you and El arrived home, it was decided that whenever I'm at work, an undercover officer will be on witness protection detail. This case may take some time, but until an arrest is made, we're not going to take any chances. I can assure you, and I'll be doing the same with El when we chat in a minute, that not only is Neal not in any immediate danger but I will have the full weight of the FBI at my disposal to take whatever course of action is necessary to keep him safe."

Rachel considered her friend's words before responding, "I hope that's enough Peter. These detectives are encircled by the power of the NYPD and have access the same database your team does. I just hope, you are able to do your thing and bring them down before the bread crumb trail leads them back home here to Neal."

###

"This is turning into a train wreck! If we'd done it my way to begin with-"

"Your way? You're a complete idiot Brett, if I'd have left you so much as a road toll to take care of we'd both be six feet under by now."

"Screw you asshole!"

"Shut it! Both of you!" The older man sitting behind a grand old study desk used a tone that brought an immediate termination to the bickering. "Neither of you have a single ounce of grey matter in your thick skulls, so sit down, shut up and let me do the thinking for all of us…and keep your voices down, Miriam is in the middle of giving a piano lesson to one of her students down the hall!"

The two younger men grunted somewhat of an apology and sat down obediently in the matching ornate arm chairs, unwilling to push their irate boss any closer to the edge.

"Okay, Stiler, tell me exactly what Hughes' assistance said about the kid?"

"Said one of the senior agents had brought his son in for the morning to show him where daddy works. Said the poor little fella didn't talk but he had adorable curls."

"You're a moron," Murdoch shook his head while laughing at his partner. "Adorable curls…Do I have adorable curls Gabriel?"

The older man narrowed his eyes at the cocky young detective, pursed his lips then pushed himself up from his seat. Murdoch dropped his smile as he watched his boss retrieve a switch blade out of the pen holder on his desk and move closer.

"Uh, sorry boss…I ah…" Murdoch sprung to his feet and backed towards the door.

Gabriel stepped into his personal space, flicking out the blade and holding it up to his subordinate's face. "Do you have adorable curls?"

"Look, boss…fuuuuuuuuu…owww!" Murdoch cradled the side of his head where a chunk of hair had just been hacked off crudely with the stainless steel blade in Gabriel's hand.

Gabriel held up a fist full of hair, "Nup, turns out you don't have adorable curls, no curls here at all Murdoch…Now sit down and close that trap of yours before I close it for ya!"

Stiler wanted to clap his hands or at least smile smugly but he had enough self-preservation to remain silent.

Gabriel paced in front of his two underlings, pausing momentarily to address Murdoch, "You say the boy looked at you as though he recognised you?"

"No question about it." The young detective released the side of his head and sat straight. "I thought it looked like it could be him when we entered White Collar – I've still got the photo I flogged from Caffrey's unit, then as we passed, he looked up at me and I knew it was him for sure. He knew it was me as well, the kid just about pissed himself there on the spot."

"Okay, first things first – we're going to take the kid out of equation. Let me know when you have him and I'll meet you at our spot down by the water."

"But…" Stiler didn't like where this was headed, "The kid can't even talk boss. He's a mute, what's he going to do?"

Gabriel eyeballed the younger man then sauntered silently around to behind his desk where he reached down to one of the drawers and acquired a folded newspaper. As he stood straight, he slammed the paper down onto the table top causing both detectives to flinch. Gabriel pointed an authoritive finger at the familiar drawing of a missing mommy. "I just about pissed my own pants earlier this week when I sat down with my morning coffee and opened the paper to see Adele Caffrey's likeness staring back at me. What's her boy going to do next? I for one am not prepared to sit around on my ass waiting to find out!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** I wanted to say thank you again for all the amazingly kind words everyone has left. This past week I've been crazy with work and have only just managed to get a new chapter posted each night before I crash. I will get back to you all personally, but in the meantime, I just need you to know how appreciated your reviews are and what a wonderful start to the day it is for me when I wake up to read your messages over toast and milk. ;)

**WITNESS**

Elizabeth sighed deeply and dropped her head, leaning heavily on the kitchen counter as she watched her husband wipe down the beach top.

"You okay, hon?" Peter put down the dishcloth and wrapped both hands around his wife's neck, giving her an impromptu massage in the process.

El gave a longer, more exhausting sigh, "How much longer?"

"How much longer till what?" Peter knew what his wife was asking but stalling gave him time to formulate a response.

"How much longer till we put a man on Mars…What did you think I meant Peter!" Elizabeth snapped.

"Hey, hon, it's okay," Peter's voice was both soothing and calming.

"No Peter, it's not." El pulled out of her husband's hold and picked up the dishcloth to finish wiping the benches.

"El…" Peter took his wife's hands and pulled her away from the counter, "Come on now, I know it's not been easy-"

"You should try it Peter, you go off to work and I have a stranger in the house, all day, watching our every move. If Neal and I take Satchmo for a walk, our companion follows at a 'safe distance'. We go out the backyard to water the plants, your protection detail is staring at us from behind the curtain." El gave into her tears and leaned into her husband's chest. "I hate it Peter, I hate all of this."

Peter released his own great sigh, unable to come up with some magical solution. In the end he suggested, "How about I take some leave from work? I have a heap owing to me. I'll stay at home with you both until this case is sorted out."

"You'd do that?" El lifted her head to check Peter's eyes for sincerity.

"Of course, hon, I'd do it in a flash. I'll ring Hughes in the morning and tell him what I'm doing."

"You know something Peter Burke?"

"What's that, honey?"

"I could fly to Mars and back and not find another man half as wonderful as you."

"Well, at least in the greater Brooklyn area?" Peter smiled as he kissed his wife on the head.

"Perhaps even in the five boroughs put together….Peter," El changed her tone becoming more serious once again, "I don't want you to take leave. Neal and I need you to go back to work, do your thing, catch the bad guys and make good on your promise. Besides, I've already put my business on hold for six weeks, no need for both of us to be off work."

"And you think you can handle the encroachment of the protection detail just a little while longer?"

El shrugged, "Perhaps I'm going about it all wrong. Officer Bartlett has a cute little-"

_Craaaaash!_

El ducked out of instinct as the ceiling above them vibrated and felt for all the world like it was about to implode over the top of their heads. Then, a split-second after her initial concern for self-preservation, El screamed at her husband, "Neal!" But the agent had already moved into action, telling his wife to stay put as he darted for the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Of no surprise to anyone, El did not stay put as she was ordered. She was following so close on Peter's heals that she ploughed right into him as he came to a sudden halt in their bedroom doorway. The scene that lay before them couldn't have looked worse if a bomb had exploded in their room. Their large clothes closet was laying flat with one end on the bed, the other on the floor, several drawers with all the contents were tossed about every which way and the photo frames, brushes and books that had been resting on top of the closet had been propelled out as far as the door.

But Peter and El didn't notice any of that. Their eyes were darting around the room for one thing and one thing only, "Neal!" El screamed, almost as loudly as she had downstairs and within seconds, she was reward with a tremendously wonderful sight. The little boy crawled out from the small alcove that had been created between the closet and the bed. The frantic parents raced over and knelt beside their youngster, dragging him out from under the disaster above and onto his feet, checking for broken bones and life-threatening wounds. Apparently, Elizabeth found one,

"Peter! He's bleeding! He's got a gash on his head!" El snatched up the closest article of clothing and pressed it against the little boy's forehead where a strip of red was beginning to form.

"It's okay, hon," Peter took the makeshift bandage from his wife and wiped the area clean. "It's only a little scrap, just calm down," _you're going to scare the kid!_

El took repossession of Peter's cotton tee shirt and checked for herself. The little graze had indeed stopped bleeding, but she patted the area gently a few more times for good measure.

The agent took the opportunity to sit back on the carpet in order to give his adrenaline a chance to run its course. His heart rate had gone through the roof with this little scare and if he wanted it to return to an acceptable level that wasn't going to see him having a stroke in the next five minutes, he had to take a time out.

It was during this brief lull that Peter noticed that while Neal's left hand was dangling naturally beside his leg, his right hand was twisted up behind his back. El hadn't noticed, she was still pondering whether the paper cut on Neal's forehead was going to require stitching. The agent ambled forward and took the little one's right arm and tried to pull it forward carefully for inspection but surprisingly, Neal held it secured behind his back.

"Hey partner?" Peter questioned gently, "Did you hurt your arm or your wrist?" It didn't seem likely. If the kid had broken a bone or sprained his wrist, he'd more than likely be showing at the very least some outward emotion indicating he was in pain. But the child stood unresponsive, just staring into space like he had every day since they'd first brought him home. Peter tried again, this time not so gently and easily pulled the little guy's arm from behind his back out to the front.

El shrieked, "Peter!"

Peter gasped, "Neal!"

And the little guy said nothing at all, just stared at the two adults who were unable to take their eyes off the object in the youngster's hand.

"Give me the gun, Neal." Peter used both hands to attempt to remove his gun from the child's hand but Neal had his little fingers wrapped tightly around the small metal trigger brace and didn't seem to want to let go. Peter wasn't worried about the gun going off, he never kept it loaded at home and he could see that the magazine chamber was empty, but still, seeing his boy holding a gun, even an unloaded gun, scared the crap out of him. "Neal," Peter's lenient approached changed and his voice become suddenly stern. "Let go of the gun right now." He could easily rip the gun from the child's hand but he didn't want his little fingers getting hurt.

Tears welled in the corner of the youngster's eyes and he glanced from the panicked look on Elizabeth's face to the authoritive one on Peter's before very slowly, very begrudgingly holding out the gun for the agent to take possession of. As soon as he'd relinquished control, the little boy crumbled to the ground and began to weep. Peter and El were so shocked, they were slow to react, staring at each other for a clue before moving quickly to wrap the little guy up in a loving embrace.

"Hey sweetie, it's okay. Everything's going to okay," El tried to reassure the youngster while Peter jumped up to tuck his gun away into a more secure hiding place. When he returned, Neal's weeping was still going strong so he simply sat on the floor beside his wife and wrapped his arms around them both as best as he could, not caring for an instance that he was sitting amongst the greatest mess his poor bedroom had ever seen.

###

"He still sleeping?" El asked as she put her mug down on the coffee table and shifted over so her husband could settle beside her on the couch. It had been over an hour since Neal had cried himself to sleep in her arms and Peter had carried the sleeping child back to his room. Before he had fallen asleep, they had tried to get the little guy to open up, to explain what was going on in his little head, but the child had been way too emotionally distressed to be in any way responsive.

"Totally out to it. Didn't even stir when I pulled back his blanket to cool him down a little."

"Did he feel hot?" El's immediate thoughts went to considering if the child was coming down with a fever.

"No, I think he was just a bit flushed from having worked himself into such a state."

"Sounds about right," El passed Peter his coffee as she shifted forward to retrieve her own. "If he's not awake in the next half-hour, I'll have to get him up no matter what or he's never going to get to sleep tonight."

"Yeah, and I need to make a start on the room soon or I'll never get it back to a reasonable state and we'll end up having to camp out in Neal's bedroom tonight." Before coming downstairs, they had worked out it was best to leave the disaster zone alone until after Neal took his nap and then El would bring the little boy down to the basement to help with the washing while Peter maneuvered the closet back into position, with the addition of course of some securing brackets.

"Why, Peter?" El sighed deeply as she leaned heavily against her husband's shoulder. "I've been over it and over it in my head but all I get are more and more questions."

The 'what' had been easy to work out. All evidence had pointed towards Neal clambering up the drawers to get at Peter's handgun that he always kept safely tucked into the very back of his sock drawer – the most out of reach drawer in the closet. His bullet magazine was kept in his gun holster, which he tucked inside one of his jackets on a hanger. The youngster had inadvertently untoppled the closet with all his weight centred at the top and the disastrous result was scattered all over the master bedroom. The what, the how and the where had been answered in seconds, but the why…the why was still hanging over Peter and El's head in large neon lettering.

"Why would Neal think it's okay to take your gun?"

Peter stared off into space, considering possibilities, "I guess the real question is…why would Neal think he needs a gun?"

"He must be feeling like he's still in danger…Which he is so I guess it's not hard for him to sense the seriousness of what's going on. Do you think he's heard us taking? I told him the agents that hang around here during the day are just men from your work doing some research for your department. I kept it vague but maybe he's worked out that they are here to watch over us. Maybe," El sat up so she could face her husband, "Maybe he sees the protection detail leave when you arrive home and thinks we're no longer safe?"

"Could be. Something's made him think he needs a gun."

"But surely he knows between you and I, we wouldn't let anything happen to him? And he knows you have a gun so he must have worked out that you're an officer of the law."

"I hope so. I hope he hasn't been thinking all this time I work for the bad guys. First chance I get, I'll take him down to the Bureau and show him around but in the interim, we need to sit him down and assure him that he is safe, that I'm an FBI agent and that I am trained to take care of people."

"And that he is not allowed to touch your gun," El added just in case Peter hadn't considered it mention worthy.

"Any gun," Peter affirmed with conviction. "If I get anything through to him, I want it to be that he understands he is never to touch any gun ever again."


	11. Chapter 11

"Oh thank God it's the weekend!" Peter stretched his arms above his head before rolling over and wrapping his wife lovingly in an arm full of blanket. El didn't bother opening her eyes, instead, she curled herself up under her husband's arm and continued to exert slow relaxing breaths.

…It had been a tough week all round and both Burkes appreciated the lull in excitement. After the incident with the gun, Peter had spent the next morning with his young son at the Bureau with the primary aim of having Neal understand that he was an agent of the law and he only carried a gun because he was trained to protect people. In the end it proved a more difficult result to achieve than Peter had first anticipated. Neal's first visit to the FBI, ultimately cut short on account of the untimely arrival of Murdoch and Stiles, had been more about showing the little guy off. This time the outing had a far more serious objective and Peter wanted to be assured his message got across. The first step was to convince the kid that he worked in the building, worked for the good guys. From what had come to light, it may have been misconstrued by Neal that Peter had been just visiting last time himself, perhaps to give a statement, perhaps to be interrogated. In order to set the record straight, Peter started in his office, sat the little guy in his big chair and told him, "This is where I work." Then he had called Jones and Dianna up and had them show Neal their badges. Peter explained to Neal that Jones and Dianna were also agents and carried guns because they were trained to protect people. After the junior agents left, Peter showed Neal his own badge and reiterated that his job was to keep people safe and only specially trained officers of the law were allowed to carry guns. Neal had stared blankly, almost in a disbelieving manner, so Peter, having very little to gauge the youngsters understanding on, decided to cut to the chase and told Neal very firmly that under no circumstance was he ever to touch a gun again. Satisfied that he'd made his point, Peter bundled up his little guy, dropped him back home, and came straight back in to catch up on all the work he should have been doing throughout the morning….

Appreciative of the fact that he wouldn't have to face work for at least another forty-eight hours, Peter pulled his wife in close and squeezed tight. "Listen hon, why don't you go back to sleep for a bit. I'll take the little guy out while you have a lie in. You were up half the night checking on him, I doubt you got much more than a couple of hours sleep."

"Didn't matter," Elizabeth mumbled from beneath the bed coverings. "I was just happy to make it through the night without another major incident."

"Fair point," Peter rubbed subconsciously at his temples, "This will all be sorted out soon hon, I promise and then we can put all our energy behind helping our little boy heal and start bringing normality and harmony into his life that's been absent for far too long."

"I'm counting down the days till you make good with that promise, Agent Burke. I can't wait for the Saturday morning when we wake up and all we have to worry about is, has the little league outfit been cleaned or where can we go for our family outing that we haven't already been to ten times over….You thinking of taking Neal somewhere today?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I am. I decided on an outing last night while I was lying here."

"I had a feeling you weren't sleeping either. You probably got no more sleep than I did." El pulled the blanket up so Peter was now almost as buried as she was. "Here's a plan, why don't the three of us just stay in bed for the day. Not too much can go wrong if we all curl up to a good book and listen to the wind blowing and the birds chirping outside the window."

"Fantastic plan El. Can't imagine what Satch will think of us though when we don't put out his breakfast, and well…Neal may be content to lay on his bed for a good couple of minutes but after that…do you really want him and Satchmo left to their own devices downstairs?"

"Yeah, you may be right. Let's stick with plan A then shall we?"

"Plan A it is... What's plan A again?"

El slapped her husband playfully and laughed, "The one where I get to stay in bed and you and Neal do some father, son bonding." El pushed herself up onto her elbow and studied her husband seriously, "Do you think it's safe to be taking Neal out of the house? I know I joked about staying in bed but it does have its merits. We don't know who's out there watching, waiting. You could both be put in danger. Why don't I get up and make us breakfast, we can rent a few movies on Apple TV and you and Neal can play catch in the backyard?"

"Honey," Peter pulled on El's elbow so her head collapsed back onto the pillow, "Firstly," the agent pointed a firm finger, "You are staying in bed, don't even think about getting up for at least another couple of hours. Secondly, yes, we're not out of the woods yet when it comes to Neal being in danger but the situation is under control. The suspects have a tail on them plus all manner of internal affairs protocols have been set in place to monitor Murdoch and Stiler's every move. They can't so much as scratch themselves without it becoming part of the prosecution's case file. We want this taken care of as soon as possible, but the reality of it is, we can't make a move till we have a solid case against the detectives so we need to be patient and…we need to carry on as close to our regular routine as possible…and as hard as it may be to believe, being a normal family includes taking my son out on a Saturday morning to experience the sights, sounds and smells of this wondrous city of ours."

"Well…if you think it's safe…then I have to trust your judgment… Where are you planning on taking him?"

"Why? You planning on tailing me?" Peter rubbed the back of his hand sweetly across the worry creases on El's forehead.

"No, I wouldn't bother being covert, I'd just tell you I was coming along for the ride."

"In that case, you can join us…after your sleep in. But in the meantime, I'm going to take Neal up the Empire State Building."

"Oh," El considered, "You don't think it'll be too cold up there this morning?"

"El…" Peter rolled his eyes, "We'll take jackets…and I'll hold his hand tight when crossing the road and I'll be sure he eats something for morning tea and brushes his teeth before we leave the house."

El looked appropriately reprimanded and smiled apologetically, "You guys have a good time, I'm just going to…well…I'm just going to be here pretending to sleep."

"Honestly, hon, I'm giving it twenty minutes and then I'm thinking they'll be no pretending about it." Peter kissed his wife, untangled himself from the blankets and sheets and climbed out of bed. He drew the blinds shut, effectively dimming the room to several shades darker then he pulled the door closed, but not before promising to come in and kiss her goodbye before heading out for this morning's adventure.

###

Peter strolled happily through the large glass doors of Empire State Building and along the impressive marbled floor of the grand foyer. He'd been about the same age as Neal when his dad had brought him in through this opulent entry for the first time and despite all the passing years, he could still remember with crystal clarity how much in awe he was of the gold plated embossed mural at the end of the hall that welcomed each visitor as they passed by on their way to the elevators. Peter glanced down at Neal's face trying to gauge his reaction but not surprisingly, the little guy gave nothing away.

The line up for the tickets wasn't too painful, being early in the day there weren't too many sight-seers up and on the go so it didn't take long to get to the front of the queue. Peter pulled out his wallet and asked for one adult and one child entry. He was surprised when the old biddy behind the counter inquired,

"How old's the child?"

Peter raised an eyebrow, surely the counter clerk's eye sight wasn't so bad she was needing to clarify whether Neal was older than three years old. The signage clearly stated that a child was classed as being between the ages of three and fourteen. Neal may have looked young for his six years but to consider him a three year old sounded off to the agent. "Uh, he's six."

"Thirty-eight dollars," the clerk stated without any pleasantries. She might well have been a robot for all the emotion that was conveyed.

Peter handed over the cash, still confused and rather offended that his little man had been mistaken for a three year old. He had to ask, "Just out of curiosity, how old did you think my child was?"

The clerk slid the tickets across the counter, clearly not wanting to engage in any chit-chat, she bluntly stated, "I'm no psychic. Without seeing the kid, how would I-"

Peter ceased listening. He heard the part about not seeing his kid and he stopped breathing. His heart kicked into an irregular pattern – one that unfortunately he was all too familiar with since been given the ultimate in responsibilities and had became the child's guardian. The agent's gaze darted to his side where he assumed Neal was standing, after all, he'd only let go of his little hand for a second or two while he removed his wallet. Peter took in his surrounds, studying the crowd for all the main players in the Adele Caffrey Case while at the same time scanning for his little boy. The agent was about to start yelling out the little guy's name when the lady next in line stated rather casually,

"He's over by the penny machine."

Peter spun to look in the direction the young woman was pointing and sure enough, the little tyke was standing next a coin machine that pressed pennies into souvenir medals for tourist. The youngster was turning the handle and watching with great interest as the cogs spun inside.

"Neal!" Peter called.

The little boy didn't register, he was simply too engrossed in the machine and all it's intricacies to notice. He startled when Peter clasped a secure grip of his tiny hand. "Neal! Didn't you hear me call you?" Peter voice was thick with emotion – the emotion of a parent who thought they'd lost a child in a busy public centre. "Neal you can't just wander off on your own! Anyone could have taken you! What were you thinking!"

Neal stared at Peter intently for a moment before glancing back with his eyes to the penny machine.

Peter noticed the machine for the first time and took a deep breath to calm himself down. He crouched down beside the youngster, "I didn't know where your were, Neal. You scared me partner." He tucked his finger under the little boy's chin. "Partner's don't scare each other like that… You just wanted to see the machine?"

Neal simply stared.

"Next time, you ask me and I'll show you, okay?"

Peter waited for some type of recognition. The child remained unresponsive so he continued more firmly, "Neal…do you understand? If you want to see something, ask and I'll take you. You don't wander off. Ever. Is that clear?"

This time, Peter received a slight nod to acknowledge that the instructions had indeed been at least partially understood. The agent nodded also and climbed back to his feet. "Good, now…let's go see what it looks like from the top of the beanstalk."


	12. Chapter 12

'_Never feel guilty about taking time out of even your busiest day to marvel at the wonder that is so close to your face, it may be just a blur….'_ Peter recalled the words from long ago that his dad had whispered into his ear as he cradled him on his hip while looking down onto the labyrinth of cars and buildings below. Young Petey Burke hadn't understood what his father had meant at the time but nevertheless, he tucked the words away for safe keeping and when he became an adult, he was able to bring them out for special occasions… just like this one.

Peter hugged Neal tight against his chest to protect him from the billowing wind as they both gazed down and marvelled at the wonder 102 stories below. "Can you see Madison Square Garden, Neal? It's the building with the rounded front."

Neal leaned forward in Peter's arms to get a better look at the iconic building that was being pointed out.

"And over there is the Rockerfeller Center and," Peter carried the small boy over to a viewing spot around the other side "And if you could see behind that small red building, you'd be able to see our home, can you see where I mean Neal?" Peter felt like a cross between a little kid himself and a volunteer tour guide as he bombarded his young son enthusiastically with geographical landmarks. "Would you like to have a look through the binoculars," Peter tapped his hand atop of the large metal looking glasses that always reminded the agent of an alien robot out of bad science fiction movie. He held out four quarters to the youngster and pointed to the money slot.

Neal looked at the coins curiously then reached out and took the quarters. But he didn't push the coins into the slots as intended, he promptly pocketed the money into the deeps of his jacket.

"Hey!" Peter feigned annoyance, "They were for the binoculars. Now we can't look through them."

Neal merely looked away and continued peering out with his own perfect eyes and the scenery.

Peter conceded defeat and joined his son at taking in the breathtaking images below.

They father, son duo made their way around the entire viewing platform before Peter decided the wind was starting to whip up a bit of a chill and they should move out of the cold…and besides, his mid-morning caffine fix was way past due so it was a good excuse to head into the coffee shop. "Come on partner, would you like me to buy you a cookie? Let's go inside and get out of the cold…

… "_But Momma! I can see so much better from out here."_

"_You crazy kiddo!" Adele Caffrey wrapped her own jacket around the shoulders of her young son as they braced themselves against the frosty winds of New York Harbor. "Take a look around Neal, everyone with any sense at all is tucked away inside, all cosy, toasty and warm. Everyone 'cept us. We're the only ones silly enough to be out here, now come on, let's get back inside before your nose turns into an icicle." Adele squeezed the tiny tykes nose between the knuckles of her two fingers._

"_Momma!" Neal pulled away and crinkled his nose till it felt right again. "It's not cold, it's…fresh, yeah, it's fresh. Don't you love that fresh air fills your lungs? You should fill yours all you can Momma before all the yucky stuff from the cars breezes in our way." The youngster took a deep exaggerated breath to demonstrate his argument._

_Adele smile, "Okay baby, well stay out here if only so we both get our fill of fresh air but there'll be no complaining you have frost bite in your toes on the walk back home."_

"_I won't Momma, I promise." __Neal turned his smiling face back into the wind and lifted his arms as he relished in the frosty airstream billowing around his tiny body._

_Neal never grew tired of the ferry. Whenever his mom would ask him where they might go to have a little adventure, the little boy would often suggest a ride on the Staten Island Ferry. They always stood at the front, even in the middle of winter when every other passenger took the sensible option and remained inside, Neal would insist on taking up his favourite spot at the front of the ferry, telling his mom he felt if the wind blew onto him just that little bit harder, it could lift him up so he could fly._

"_Don't go too high, baby," Adele pretended, "you don't want to run into any of those crazy scenic helicopters."_

"_No chance of that Momma, everyone is still in bed after listening to Yo Yo Ma playing at Carnegie Hall last night…Why couldn't we go Momma? It would have been fan'astic. In the paper it says that everyone who goes thinks he's the best ever."_

"_You know why baby. I told you already that there was no way we could afford to go to something like that. Your ticket alone would have cost more than mommy makes in a week."_

"_We could have asked Daddy to pay for the tickets. I'm sure he would have liked to have come along, pecially if I told him how last night was the final chance to see Yo Yo Ma play for a very long time…he's going to start playing all around the world you know."_

"_Yes Neal," Adele sighed, "I know about the world tour, I know that last night was his final concert, I know it's going to be ages before you can see him again." In fact, Adele knew everything about Yo Yo Ma - ever since it became Neal's latest obsession when he stumbled across a story about the cellist in the entertainment section of the local paper._

_Neal having an obsession was nothing new, but talking about his dad like he was still around was totally out of character and this occasion was the third time Neal had mentioned his dad in the past week. "Neal," Adele turned her son so they were facing and crouched down to his level, "What's going on baby?"_

"_Nothing Momma…I just thought that maybe if he knew Yo Yo Ma was-"_

"_Neal," Adele held up her hand and stopped the explanation, "I told you baby, Daddy had to go away."_

"_I know Momma," Neal dropped his head sadly._

"_So…why did you just say that we could have asked Daddy to pay for the tickets?"_

"_Cause maybe he could have, maybe he has a job, a really good job and makes lots of money, and maybe Daddy's tired of being away and wants to come back home again."_

"_Oh Neal," Adele pulled her little boy in close, "Daddy can't come home sweetheart."_

"_Why not Momma? I wander off and I always come home. You go and clean and come back every time. Daddy might come back too?"_

"_No baby, Daddy's not coming back."_

"_Why not!" Neal demanded to know._

"_He just can't baby. I'm sorry, but he just can't…" Adele considered what might be ticking in the youngster's head, "Neal does this have anything to do with you starting at the new school next week?"_

_Neal shrugged, "No."_

"_Neal…?"_

"_Momma," the little tyke whined, "All the other kids will have daddies. I know they will. Why can't I?"_

_Adele swallowed the lump in her throat and pulled the little boy over to the bench seat. "Neal…Not all children have a daddy, some don't even have a mommy, but we have each other and we have to be grateful for that. I think I'm the luckiest mommy in the whole world and one day when you're a famous artist, I'm going to tell everybody – 'my little boy painted that!'… You and I, we do lots of fun stuff together and well, and I know for a fact that nobody loves you more than I do." Adele pulled her son in close and squeezed him tight while kissing his windswept black curls._

"_I love you too Momma." Neal leaned into the cuddle for a moment before pulling back and asking, "But one day can have a daddy again?"_

"_Who knows baby…" Adele wanted to say yes, wanted desperately to assure her little boy that there was indeed a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow but unfortunately, harsh reality was all too often snipping at her heals and she knew better. "I'd like to think you'll have a daddy again one day, Neal but for now we've got to make the best of what we got."_

"_If you say so Momma," Neal said disappointedly._

"_Hey," Adele stood up and stepped towards the door, "Come on, time to go inside, I'll even buy you a cookie."_

"_But Momma, the ride's almost over!" Neal protested as he attempted to tug his mom back towards the front of the ferry._

"_And, it's also starting to rain. Time for even the crazy kiddos to take shelter."_

"_Okaaay," Neal conceded disgruntledly, "but it's going to cost you a hot chocolate?"_

"_Mmm," Adele considered the counter-offer, "A hot chocolate does sound like a most splendid idea, so you'd better get your butt inside before I change my mind."_

_Neal smiled at the successful negotiation and began to follow his mom to the inside sitting area but stopped and crouched down to pick at something crawling between the railing and the metal flooring._

"_What have you got baby?" Adele asked as she watched her son capture the little creature between his hands._

"_It's a ladybug Momma," Neal proudly announced as he showed off his find._

_Adele inspected the creature, "A ladybug…she's beautiful, Neal. You know some people think that ladybugs are lucky, I bet one like that one in your hand would give good wishes."_

_Neal's face lit up as he looked down at his little treasure then he closed his eyes and blew on the tiny bug. When he felt it leave the palm of his hand he opened his and smiled at his mom._

"_What did you wish for baby?"_

_Neal's bright blue eyes sparkled with hope as he looked up into his mom's matching eyes…._

….Peter looked down into his little boy's brilliant blue eyes, hoping for a response, any indication that he'd understood but the child was elsewhere, he'd zoned out and was back in another place. Peter recognised the look after seeing it a number of times before. He wished he could see into the boy's mind to see what he was thinking, wished he could take away all the boy's worries, wished he knew what he was doing when half the time he was walking blind. Peter snapped out of his thoughts as he noticed Neal was no longer staring into space, but was staring straight at him, like he was studying him. It was quite disconcerting and Peter suddenly felt uncomfortable so he made a move, "Come on, partner. Let's get you out of this wind before I catch it from El for letting you catch a cold."

###

90…80…70…60…As the elevator made its way back down to the ground floor, Peter stared at the floor numbers counting down while considering the statistical percentages of those who tracked the numbers on the way down versus those who didn't. He imagined at some point there would have been a study done on the topic and made a mental note to Google it the next time he got bored at work and was looking for something to distract his attention. 20...26…24…22…20… The lift slowed down and gently arrived at ground level.

"Thank you for visiting, exit on the right and have a great day," the elevator attendant announced cheerfully as the doors opened and thirty odd passengers moved as one in the direction indicated. Peter held tight the little hand secured in his as the stream of people continued back towards the foyer where they had first come in.

"What did you think, Neal? Did you enjoy that?" Peter pulled up next to scale model of the Empire State Building attracting attention beside the reception desk. "Look buddy, we were just at the top of-"

"Scusa mi."

Peter turned as a subway map was shoved under his nose by a middle aged man sporting a money belt on his hip, a camera case strung around his neck and three female companions hovering over his shoulder - the one juggling a half dozen bags from Bloomingdales, no doubt his wife.

_Tourists_…Peter grumbled in his head.

"Scusa mi, Grand…Come si dice…C-Centro Station?"

Peter unscrambled the question in his head and translated, "Grand Central Station? You want to know how to get to Grand Central Station?"

"Si." The man smiled gratefully while the rest of his entourage nodded their support.

Peter looked down at his young charge and remembering what happened the last time he let go of the little guy's hand in the foyer, pulled him in close so he was practically standing under the map, before releasing his hold. "Okay, so we are here," Peter unfolded the map "and the closest subway station is one block back at Herald Square, but…" Peter paused not to see if his directions were being understood but to lift the map and check that his 'detainee' remained safely secured below. Satisfied, the native New Yorker continued confidently, "If you travel east along 33rd street until you come to Lexington Avenue, you can catch a 6 train directly up to 42nd street – that's Grand Central Station. Make sense…Uh, Capire?"

"Si, si," the tourist nodded his head as he accepted the map back from Peter. "Grazie."

"Your wel-" Peter almost choked on his tongue as he stopped mid word to stare at the empty void that had been revealed as the map was passed back to its owner. _Neal!_ He heard himself shout inside his head while staring at the vacant spot his son had stood mere seconds before, unable to believe he was no longer there. "Neal!" Peter shouted out loud this time, while darting around the tourists, furious at himself for losing his son, not once, but twice in the same outing! "Neal! The increasingly frightened father called out as his eyes desperately scanned the crowded foyer before thankfully zeroing in on the target of his search, across the hall at the…at the damn penny machine!

As the frustrated first time dad made a bee line towards his little boy, he could see Neal feeding the machine the quarters he'd acquired upstairs and decided that a very serious discussion was in order about several topics including one that was going to begin, 'When I ask you not to wander off, I mean it!'

Peter made it another couple of determined steps and then, just in case the situation wasn't bad enough already, a blaring wailing alarm flooded the foyer, _WEEEEOOOO… WEEEEEOOOOO… WEEEEEOOOOOO!_

"What the?" Peter spun towards the howling noise, which reverberated from every corner of the hall.

"PLEASE EXIT THE BUILDING IN AN ORDERLY FASHION, THIS IS NOT A DRILL."

As with all the other occupants of the great hall, Peter paused to listen to the automated announcement over the PA before leaping into action. Unfortunately, his action went against the grain of the sudden people crush streaming towards the front glass revolving doors and he found himself having to shoulder barge his way through the crowd to reach his son. Within seconds, the agent found himself standing beside the penny machine, a lone penny machine, a penny machine without a child in sight. Where…which way…he had only lost eye contact for a second…he had to be here… Peter stared in bewilderment at the spot where he'd last seen his son and that's when he noticed the two quarters lying on the ground where the little boy's feet should have been. Peter crouched down in a daze to pick one up and it was at that moment that something shimmering a few feet along the wall, caught his eye. He trailed what appeared to be small pieces of broken glass across the floor and up the wall till he locked eyes with a fire alarm leaver that had been smashed and engaged – right near where Neal had been playing around with the tourist machine. Peter didn't have to be a seasoned FBI agent to work out what had happened, but years of experience sent an alarm to his brain that he was now looking at a crime scene.

The agent immediately sprang to his feet to scan the crowd for known criminal faces but even as he jumped and ducked and craned his neck around every body moving towards the exit, Peter knew it deep down…knew in his gut …he'd lost him. The devastated father grabbed a hold of a nearby hand rail to stop his legs from giving way beneath him and stood watching like from afar as the crowd flowed past.

_WEEEEOOOO… WEEEEEOOOOO… WEEEEEOOOOOO!_

"PLEASE EXIT THE BUILDING IN AN ORDERLY FASHION, THIS IS NOT A DRILL."

Peter's whole world began to spin. His limbs froze, his breathing stopped. Neal was gone.


	13. Chapter 13

_He's gone El. I lost our son. They took him and I let it happen. El, Neal's gone._

Over and over Peter played the words in his head, the conversation he was going to have with his wife, the conversation he promised her would never happen. Peter pressed his foot down on the gas and sped across the Queensboro Bridge in pursuit of the dot he was tracking on his phone.

After he'd snapped out of the initial shock of knowing his son had been snatched up from right under his nose, Peter's FBI training had rebooted and he set out in pursuit of his target with absolute prejudice. Within seconds, he had engaged Neal's electronic anklet GPS data on his phone and commandeered a taxi outside the Empire State Building, not giving a damn what the driver had to say about being unceremoniously yanked from his seat. Hell, he would have taken the guy's car at gun point if that's what it took!

Peter momentarily took his attention away from the dot he was tracking and the traffic he was weaving in and out of to press one of his speed dial numbers.

"Hi Boss," the young female on the other end recognised Peter's number.

"Dianna, listen, someone took Neal. I'm sure it's Murdoch and Stiler. I'm in pursuit. I've just pulled off the Queensboro Bridge and Neal's tracking data has them heading to the industrial wharfs down at Long Island City. Trace my phone and send backup."

"Sure Boss, I'm on it…You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm find…but anyway, Dianna," Peter paused while working out how best to word it.

"Yeah Boss?"

"Do me a favour and head over to my house. I need someone there with El…just in case this goes badly."

There was a slight pause on the other end before the young woman replied, "I'll take care of this end, you take care of yours."

"Thanks Dianna." Peter muted the phone but maintained the connection so he could be traced and resumed tracking Neal's dot, which appeared to be slowing. A minute later, the dot had come to a complete standstill, right beside the East River, not more than five blocks from Peter's current location. As soon as he was off the main road, he closed the gap in next to no time.

Peter stopped the taxi one block back from where Neal's tracker put him and cautiously travelled the rest of the distance on foot.

###

"Yeah…Yeah…No, I don't think so…Right…At the moment, I got him on the couch…What time?..…But he doesn't say nothing….You gotta come here and see for yourself…"

Peter crept in slowly, readjusting his eyes to the darkened warehouse after the blazing mid morning sun had caused his vision to struggle upon entering via a loose panel near the back docks. He could hear a voice, someone speaking with agitation on a phone? He could only hear one side of the conversation so he assumed it was a phone call. Peter moved in closer and as he rounded a stack of boxes, a small area in the corner set aside as an office came into view. Peter remained out of sight as he watched a man with a phone to his ear pace back and forth. Stiler! The rogue detective was clearly distressed and had issue with whomever was on the other end. Peter raised his gun and moved in a little closer. It was at that moment he spotted Neal. The little guy was sitting perfectly still on a beat up couch, his tiny legs folded up under and his arms wrapped around his knees. Peter swallowed down a huge lump in his throat and released a breath he'd been holding for who knew how long. His little boy was unharmed and if the agent was going to have anything to say about it, it was going to stay that way.

Stiler turned his back and paced away from the couch, "No…I don't think you realise…Why don't you come down here and do it yourself!…"

Peter stepped fully into view and raised his gun to eye level.

Neal caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head sharply. His eye's brightened when he spotted Peter and it looked like he was about to make a move but the agent held a finger to his lips and then held his hand up in a stop gesture.

Neal appeared to understand but just as Peter was about to make a move, the little guy jumped up off the seat and screamed out at the top of his lungs while pointing in Peter's direction, "Look out Daddy! Behind you!"

Peter reacted on impulse and spun round in time to see a gun being raised to his head. Without pause, Peter smashed his gun against Murdoch's and the two weapons went crashing across the floor leaving both men to battle it out in a hand to hand fist fight.

Meanwhile, Stiler had made a decision to do a runner while the others were distracted, figuring that the FBI agent wouldn't be alone and he'd fare better odds if he cleared off before the cavalry came breaking down the door.

"You son of a bitch!" Peter slammed his fist into the side of Murdoch's jaw but the detective ducked the next swing and instead caught Peter in his ribs with a painful right undercut.

Peter doubled over before barrelling into Murdoch, bringing them both tumbling to the ground. They wrestled and struggled, throwing wild punches that sometimes caught their mark, until eventually, Murdoch broke free and clambered to his feet. He had managed to retrieve his gun and he was pointing said gun directly at Peter.

Neal gasped out loud and both men turned to the little boy who'd been forgotten about during the brawl.

"Daddy is it?" Murdoch spat away a mouthful of blood and smirked at the agent kneeling on the hard concrete flooring. "Well,_ Daddy_, seems like _your_ boy isn't a mute after all. But unless either of you can tell me where the ring is, you're of no use to any of us."

"Ring?" Peter stalled for time, back-up had to be just around the corner. He had no idea what Murdoch was talking about but he wasn't about to give up the only collateral he had. "Depends which ring Murdoch. You tell me which one and I'll tell you if we know where it is."

Murdoch gave a deep throaty chuckle although there was no smile in his eyes, only hatred and greed. The detective spun on Neal but kept his weapon trained on Peter, "Looks like its up to you Mr Caffrey."

Neal froze in his spot and couldn't take his eyes off the man with his gun.

"I knew your first daddy well. He and I used to be partners of sorts. But your daddy got greedy and took something that didn't belong to him so I had to-"

"Let Neal go and I'll take you to the ring," Peter made a move to stand up but Murdoch cocked his gun and trained it more precisely at Peter's head.

"Sorry Agent Burke but you're not dealing with some dumb ass rookie. You don't have an inkling of an idea what I'm talking about. Adele didn't have an opportunity to tell you anything but I'm guessing she had plenty of chats with her little boy. So you see, you're obsolete to me. You move, I shoot, this is between me and young Caffrey over here." Murdoch continued to aim his gun at the agent but twisted his head back to the boy…but the boy had moved. He was now standing right beside Peter's gun that had propelled across the floor. Neal was looking down at the gun at his feet.

Murdoch laughed again, "Go on kid, pick it up. Your daddy was a good shot. Let's see if you take after your old man. Your _other _old man."

Neal looked from the gun to Murdoch and finally across to Peter. Peter had been desperately waiting to lock eyes with the youngster and when he did, he needed to get his message across loud and clear. _Don't touch the gun!_ Peter knew from having listened to the experiences of those who had been through it that it was much easier to shoot a suspect if they were waving around a loaded gun. Survival instinct kicked in, taking away the doubt behind pulling the trigger. If Neal picked up that gun…! Peter's eyes bore into Neal's then he shook his head ever so slightly, enough that the little guy got the message – don't you dare!

"Pick it up, Caffrey! Or this daddy is going bye byes just like your first one."

Neal took one final look at Peter then made his move. Fortunately, instead of grabbing for the gun, he darted behind a wooden crate and took shelter. Peter saw his opportunity and reefed his spare gun from its ankle holster and fired. Murdoch didn't stand a chance. He dropped his weapon and collapsed to ground, holding his chest where the bullet had struck. Peter rushed over and kicked away the gun before holstering his own. He was about to reach for his cell to call for the paramedics but a team bursting through the doors beat him to it.

"FBI!" Came the shouts as the agents secured the area.

"Man down," Peter relinquished the care of Murdoch to another field agent then darted over to where his son was huddled behind the boxes.

"Daddy!" Neal jumped up and wrapped his arms around Peter's neck for all his worth.

"Hey! Kiddo!" Peter ran his hand through the little guy's hair and didn't know where to start. Neal had spoken. Neal had called him daddy and Neal had listened to him about not touching the gun. Where to start?..."You okay, partner?"

"Yeah…" Neal began without thinking but then suddenly remembered something.

"What is it buddy?" Peter waited for a response but the little boy clamed up once more. And in any case, it was time to remove Neal from this nightmare, sooner rather than later, so Peter climbed back onto his feet, lifting Neal as he went and wrapping him safely against his chest so he could guard him against the chaos ensuing throughout the building. As he exited the building, Peter caught sight of Stiler handcuffed and being dragged to a squad car and glanced over with detached interest as Murdoch was loaded into an ambulance. He didn't care for either of them so whatever their fate was, it was someone else's problem now.

###

That night, it was a mentally exhausted but gratefully relieved set of parents that tucked their sleeping son into his bed, thankful that they could all sleep a little better knowing that the main players in the Adele Caffrey homicide were in custody, out of harms way and were about to be locked away for a very long time.

After bringing Neal home and entrusting him into El's comforting hands, Peter had headed back to the bureau to listen in on the proceedings, along with all manner of law enforcement officers from various divisions, for the booking and interrogation of Detective Brett Stiler. The young detective had brokered a deal that would see him get a reduced sentence, which Peter hadn't been happy about, in return for his full cooperation. In light of his confession, Senior Detective Gabriel Mastroni was exposed as the ring leader of their operation and was subsequently charged with all manner of offences, including Adele Caffrey's murder.

Detective Stiler had also enlightened the interviewing agents from Violent Crimes that Carl Caffrey had been the operations go-to-man. Turns out the young NYPD officer, while not being very good at his legal job, had been one hell of a fence. The four member team had a finely tuned operation going. Murdoch and Stiler would take a stash of drugs that was confiscated during one of their raids, give it to Caffrey and he'd turn it over, mostly through his mob related connections, into diamonds and precious gems. Caffrey would pass the gems through to Detective Mastroni who was the mater-mind of the operation and everyone would get paid a cut. In the meantime, due to his high level security clearance, Mastroni handled the books to ensure that the missing drug stashes were accounted for on paper.

According to Stiler, things went south when Murdoch got wind that Caffrey wanted to get out, wanted to split from the team and make a fresh start somewhere else. Caffrey knew Mastroni would never let him just walk out with what he knew so the young cop did a number of side deals until he came into possession of the Morocco Diamond Ring, valued at $4.5 million and studded with 24 carat diamonds. It was Caffrey's retirement fund. Murdoch investigated what was going down and tracked Caffrey's deals back to the ring. When Mastroni was informed that Caffrey had been skimming off the top, he sent Murdoch and Stiler to pick the slime up. The detectives had cornered Caffrey in the alley outside his favoured club and when Caffrey put up a fight, Murdoch had put several bullets in him. This of course infuriated Mastroni even further and Murdoch was about to find himself floating face down in the East River but the younger man had suggested that it was very likely Adele Caffrey would be in the know of the whereabouts of the diamond ring, especially if they had planned on going off the reservation together. Mastroni had been placated by that offering and so began the hunt for the young officer's wife who disappeared, along with her young son, without a trace the morning after Carl's body had been discovered.

It was a weary Agent Burke who excused himself from the observation room during the third hour of the interrogation. He understood that the agents on the other side of the double-sided mirror had many more questions to throw at their suspect but for now, Peter had all the answers he needed. He had more important concerns like singing to his son and rocking him to sleep on his lap.

###

A few days had passed since the incident at the wharfs but even though Peter and El tried their best to bring some normality into their little boy's world through outings and family time, Neal was more distant than ever. He'd been checked out by the departmental psychologist and of course nothing had changed but with each passing day, Neal appeared to become just that little bit more withdrawn than the day before. The elation Peter had felt at having Neal call him 'daddy' was now being overshadowed by the fact that the boy hadn't said anything since.

Peter sat at the dining table, staring at Neal who in turn was staring out the window, from right where he'd stood ever since they'd come back from walking Satchmo around the block. The agent sighed deeply and rubbed his temples with his fingers. Neither the doctors, nor Rachel had any miracle suggestions. All they would say was time, give it time. Peter released a great breath and stood up. He had to try something. It was time for something, time to go out on a limb.

"Come on buddy, get your coat, you and I are going for a drive."

"Where you going?" El inquired from the kitchen. "Dinner's not too far off."

"I'll heat it up when we get back. We won't be long."

###

Peter looked in the rear vision mirror and waited for a reaction as he pulled up at the curb outside the rundown brownstone apartment building with its faded 'On Site Manager Wanted' sign. The little boy didn't disappoint. His eyes widened and he rushed to push open the car door, charging across the sidewalk to the front door. Peter caught up and took the little boy's hand, then retrieved a master key from his pocket to let themselves in. Neal tried to race ahead but Peter held firm. As they made their way down to the basement level apartment, Peter could feel the excitement flowing through the little boy's limbs and wondered if he hadn't made a critical error in bringing the boy back to this place with so many memories. When they reached the apartment door, Peter crouched down to his son's eye level but Neal's mind was elsewhere. Their chat would have to wait. Peter stood up, slid the key into the lock and turned. Neal pushed open the door and ran inside. He darted into the bedroom then into the kitchen before slowing down his pace and wandering around the lounge area, eventually settling into a chair at the dining table and picking up a crayon. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat and joined his son at the table. He knew this was going to be difficult, he never doubted in his mind that it wouldn't be one of the most difficult things he ever had to do but after everything Neal had been through, he deserved this opportunity. "Neal…" the word came out squeaky and unconvincing, just like he felt. Peter cleared his throat and tried again, "Neal, hey…" The little boy paid no attention, instead, he directed all his attention into the drawing he had resumed colouring. "Neal," Peter gently took the crayon out the child's hand and took his hand in his. "Neal, I need you to listen to me…

_The little boy shifted his eyes to give his undivided attention to his mommy. She only spoke in that tone when it was serious and by the look on her face, this was one of those occasions. "Yes Momma, I'm listening. Have you finished washing Mr Brewster's windows already."_

_Adele shook her head, "No baby, but when Mommy was washing Mr Brewster's windows I saw something down in the alley." Adele pulled Neal off his seat and led him over to the couch. She crouched down and nudged Neal into the small space between the couch and the wall._

"_Momma, what's happening?" The child asked nervously._

"_Listen baby, how would you like to play another game?"_

"_Okay Momma." Neal's eyes brightened even though he was still unsure of what was going on. "How do we play?"_

"_Well, you have to squeeze in behind the couch and you can't move. And, no matter what happens, no matter what you hear, you can't make a single sound. No talking. No trying to answer. No saying anything to anyone unless it's me. Do you understand?"_

"_Yes Momma, of course I do."_

"_Okay baby, now, some people are going to come in here soon and they might make a lot of noise and say a lot of stuff but what do you have if you want to win?"_

"_Stay behind the couch and don't say anything."_

"_That's right baby, if you stay quiet and don't make a sound I promise you everything will be alright." Adele kissed her little boy on his head and began to move away but found a little hand clutching her shirt._

"_Momma, you forgot to tell me what I get if I win?"_

_Adele looked to the front door and could distinctly hear movement behind it. "Anything you want baby. Now promise me," Adele whispered, "promise me Neal, you won't make a sound."_

"I promise."

"Hey, what's that little man?"

Neal gazed out sadly across the room and Peter noticed tears welling in the corner of the little boy's eyes. After rubbing his face on his shirt Neal, conceded, "I promised Momma. I promised my Momma I wouldn't say anything."

Peter wished he had a manual with all the answers. Wished he had the wisdom of all the best parents who'd ever been. But he was simply an FBI agent, and on account of all that had happened since taking responsibility for this child, not a very good one at that! "Hey," Peter moved around the table and lifted the boy off his seat before carrying him over to the couch where he settled him on his lap. "You promised your mommy you wouldn't say anything when…when those men came and took her away?"

Neal nodded and swiped at the corner of his eyes where more tears were beginning to pool.

"Neal, you did what your mommy asked you to do. You stayed quiet and you didn't say a word and I know your mommy would be so proud of you."

"But I did speak. I spoke to Lizabeth and I called out to you. M-momma said ev'rything would be alright if I didn't s-speak but I, I did." Neal's speech became hitched as his tears took over.

Peter sighed, "Neal, it's okay, partner. It didn't matter that you spoke to Elizabeth or called out to me. You did what your mommy asked of you," _and then some_, "and I know your mommy would be smiling because you did is so well."

"Have you seen her?" Neal suddenly turned and stared intently at Peter.

"No Neal…I haven't." Peter paused and tried to work out what to say next. "Neal, you know your mommy isn't coming back don't you?"

Neal slouched back again and mumbled, "Dr Barton told me Mommy was with Daddy now and wouldn't be coming back home."

"And you know that's true don't you partner."

The little boy shrugged, "I wanted to see. I thought she might be here. Sometimes I wander off too and I come home. I thought maybe Momma did that too. But…she hasn't been here. She would have packed my colours away, she never likes them left out."

Peter looked back over at the dining table, the scattered drawings, the loose crayons. Out of every which way they'd tried to get Neal to understand, would it come done to a fifty cent box of crayons.

"Momma doesn't like mess. She says she has enough cleaning to do without more mess down here. She would have packed it away if I wasn't here to do it….I should do it now." The little boy climbed off Peter's lap and made his way over to the table where he watched with a breaking heart as the youngster meticulously slipped the colours back into their box. Neal neatened the stack of papers before looking up sadly at Peter, "Momma's not coming home is she."

"No partner," Peter placed a loving hand on the little boy's head, "She's not."

"Are we going back to your place now?"

"Yeah…whenever you are ready."

"Can…can I bring something with me?"

"Of course, whatever you want."

Neal looked thoughtful then he darted off into the room. Peter followed close on his heels and watched as the little guy squatted down and pulled the front panel off the bottom drawer. Peter was intrigued if not just that little bit concerned so was quite relieved when Neal hauled out a plush puppy dog and gave him a loving squeeze. "You miss me Ruffles? I sure missed you."

"Hey, who's this?" Peter sat down on the bed and leaned in close to his son.

"This is Ruffles…and Ruffles," Neal lifted the dog to introduce him to Peter, "this is…" Neal paused, unsure what he should be calling this new man in his life, "Uh…this is…"

"What do you think Ruffles should call me Neal?" Peter put the question back onto the little boy, deciding that he didn't want to put any pressure on the child. He really didn't mind what Neal called him, he was just grateful that the child was finally speaking.

"Ummm, maybe Daddy?"

Peter couldn't help a huge smile. Seems he did care after all. "That sound's perfect. Hello Ruffles, I'm Daddy and I know someone who's going to be very happy to meet you."

"Lizabeth?" Neal suspected.

"Oh yes, of course Elizabeth, but I was thinking more along the lines of Ruffles new brother…Satchmo?"

Neal immediately dropped his happy demeanour and held his puppy close.

"What's wrong bud?" Peter was confused, again.

"Nothing," Neal grumbled.

"Don't you want Ruffles to meet Satchmo?"

Neal shook his head.

"Why not kiddo? Satchmo would be thrilled to have a new brother."

"I don't want Ruffles eaten up."

"Huh," Peter gave the room a quick scan for that child-raising manual he so desperately needed but once again had to go it alone. "Neal, you think Satchmo will eat Ruffles?"

Neal nodded.

"What makes you think that, partner?"

"My other daddy told me before he went away. I wanted a real puppy for my birthday but Daddy said that Ruffles was better than a real dog. He said real dogs were mean. He said a real dog would tear up my drawings, he would bark all night long and keep everyone awake and worse of all, he would eat Ruffles when I wasn't around to save him."

_Oh unreal!_ Peter rolled his eyes and added that to the list of things that would have to be repaired with time. Time sure was going to get its money's worth out of this kid. "I can guarantee you buddy that Satchmo would never eat his new brother but I'll tell you what we'll do, I'll put Satchmo on a lead while you introduce him to his new family and you can let me know when it's okay to let him go. Sound like a good plan?"

"I guess," Neal didn't sound too convinced but Peter could work on that on the trip home.

"Anything else you want to take with you partner?"

Neal stood up and looked around the sparse room before heading out towards the door.

"How about these photos?" Peter reached out and lifted the one of Neal with his mom.

"I suppose," Neal shrugged then strolled out without a backwards glance. Peter picked up the two photo frames and tucked them under his arm. He'd come back another day without the boy and box up the rest of their possessions but for now, it seemed as though he had what he wanted – Ruffles and maybe…just maybe…a new daddy.

###

Peter sat rocking his son on his lap. As soon as El had just finished reading the bedtime story, the little boy had climbed up, nursing Ruffles under his arm, looking brighter and more content than he had in a long time. "Daddy."

Peter would never get sick of hearing that word, "Yeah partner? What's up?"

"Do you think if you get all your jobs done, tomorrow we could go for a ride on the Staten Island Ferry?"

Peter smiled over at Elizabeth who was pulling back the blanket on Neal's bed. She smiled back at her husband as she left the room, happy to not only hear her little boy calling Peter, Daddy, but happy that he was finally taking and engaging them in conversation. She didn't mind that he was still calling her Lizabeth, even though she hoped that perhaps over time, he might one day call her mom.

"Sure kiddo. We could even go on the Circle Line if you want. It goes all the way around Manhattan."

"Does it go as fast as the Staten Island Ferry?"

"Uh…I'm not sure, we could try it out if you liked."

"Nah, let's just go on the Staten Island Ferry. Mommy liked that one best."

"Okay partner, the Staten Island Ferry it is."

"Oh," Neal lifted his head off Peter chest and looked him seriously in the eye, "and you'll need to bring some money."

"Money?" Peter played along, "But the Staten Island Ferry is free. It doesn't cost anything."

The little boys eye's twinkled, "Yeeeesss…but you need money if you're gonna get me to come in out of the cold. It's gonna cost you a hot chocolate and an extra large choc chip cookie or I'm going to stay outside and be a crazy kiddo for the whole trip."

Peter chuckled and wrestled his little man in a squeeze, "Is that what your Momma called you Neal? A crazy kiddo?"

Neal giggled enjoying the clowning almost as much as Peter was, "Only when I stayed outside and pretended I was flying."

"Well, crazy kiddo, in that case I'll bring some money just in case your nose starts to turn blue." Peter tapped the little boy's nose before becoming serious once more. "Now time for sleep partner or else we're all going to be too tired to go on any trip tomorrow."

"Okay," Neal adjusted himself in Peter's arms and rested his head against Peter's chest."

"Goodnight Neal." Peter kissed his little boy on his head then commenced rocking.

"Night night, Daddy."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note:** Thank you all for your kind messages throughout the posting of this story. I have so much fun reading all your thoughts, recaps and speculations every day and once again, now that the story is over, I shall go into withdrawal! LOL A special thank you also to my friends from Collar-quences who test read, advised and encouraged me to continue when I got sidetracked! And, if you haven't seen Witness (the movie) you should. You won't be disappointed. :)

**WITNESS - EPILOGUE**

"Come on Neal, pick up your pace," Peter checked his watch as he glanced back over his shoulder to make sure his instructions were being followed.

"What's the rush Dad," Neal skipped a couple of steps to catch up with the older man's larger strides, "And come to think of it, why'd we have to catch the subway anyway? You could have just dropped me off."

"I wanted to make sure you wouldn't get lost making your own way home."

Neal stopped walking and put his hands on his hips, clearly put out by that statement. "Oh you're kidding me right?"

Peter smiled but didn't slow down, "I knew you weren't listening to a thing that was being said to you last night…Car's in the shop for a service."

"Oh," Neal really hadn't been listening at all. "In that case, I guess it's all right."

"Move it Neal, we don't want to be late. Your mom told her we'd be there at eight-thirty."

Neal jogged a few paces before he was matching Peter's once more. "What's this ole bags-" Neal quickly clamed up after receiving a stern glare from his dad, disrespect had zero tolerance in the Burke household. "Ah, I was about to say, what's this dear old lady's name again…Mrs…?"

"Mrs Ellington, June Ellington."

"And how does mom know her again?"

"You really didn't listen to a thing your mom said did you?"

_No, I tuned her ramblings out half hour into the lecture…_ "Yeah, sure I did but there was a lot to take in."

Peter sighed knowingly. He could pretty much pinpoint the moment Neal had zoned out but there would have been little point in telling El. "Your mom has catered for Mrs Ellington on a number of occasions and she mentioned that she was on the lookout for a someone to help with odd jobs around the house, a bit of gardening, small paint jobs, moving boxes in and out of storage, you get the idea." The agent made a sharp right hand turn to cross over into the park and Neal once again had to skip to catch up.

"So it's a paid position?"

Peter delivered another pointed look in his son's direction.

Neal winced understanding the unspoken message loud and clear, _Don't even go there!_ "Uh, where's the house? Much further?"

"Nope, it's that grey building just at the end of this park. See it?"

"Yeah. It's pretty flash. Mrs Ellington lives in one of the units there?"

"Mrs Ellington owns the whole building. She lives there alone."

"Oh wow."

"You're telling me."

"And she can't afford a gardener?"

Neal got _the look_ once more. He was a slow learner but decided anyway it was probably time to move on and change subjects. Besides, he just had a thought, "Dad."

"Yeah bud?"

"Can't I just spend the two weeks doing chores around our home. There's plenty there to keep me busy and out of trouble. I'm sure Mrs Ellington is a real sweet lady and all but she's going to want to tell me all about herself and all her troubles and how the world's not the same place it was when she was my age and well let's just say my ears have already been chewed off from where Mom made known her displeasure about my being suspended-"

"Again."

Neal ignored his dad and continued without missing a beat, "Don't get me wrong, hanging out with Mrs Ellington sounds like a real hoot, but don't you think someone of my formative years should be tasked with fine tuning specific skills. For example, I know one neighbour in particular who'd be appreciate at having a talented young artist such as myself, repaint her exterior feature walls."

"Said neighbour wouldn't happen to be Mrs Erica Masters by any chance?"

"How'd you know?"

"Son, if I had a dollar for every time you looked up hopefully at Miss Penny Master's bedroom window when we walked Satchmo around the block, I'd never have to work a day again in my life."

"I have to try and get her attention somehow," Neal defended his apparently blatantly obvious actions. "Penny's sat across from me in home room all year and not once has she noticed me. Which is really quite…disconcerting, considering all the other girls who practically fall over each other to to chat with me. Every one of them except Penny Masters. She just sits by the window looking so happy and wonderfully glorious, doing her own thing. A couple of times I've purposely bumped into her on the way into class but she's simply said 'excuse me' and carried on like it was nothing."

Peter chuckled, "Have you ever considered actually just walking up to the girl and you know, saying hello?"

"Daaad!" Neal whined, "That's not how it works these days…Now perhaps back in your day it might have worked a treat-"

"No, back in my day we had to carve our messages to each other into stone tablets and then ride our wooly mammoths over to the girl's cave to deliver it."

"Not funny dad!" Neal playfully slapped at his father's shoulder. "Anyway, back to my point…"

"Which was?"

"Can't I see out my _sentence_ for being suspended from school somewhere closer to home where my talents won't wither away for two weeks?"

"Like at the Master's house?"

"Exactly!"

"Nope."

"Dad!" Neal grumbled, "Why not? This unpaid labour mom's committed me to seems rather harsh for a fairly minor offence. I don't see what the big deal was. It's not like I was suspended for forging IDs or anything. All I did was take a test for a friend of mine."

Peter came to a complete stop and Neal all but ploughed into the back of him. The agent turned and pointed his finger, "If I find out young man that you've so much as even thought about forging documents you'll be grounded for so long you'll need a whole new wardrobe when you're finally let out because all those fancy shirts of yours will be severely out of date!...Is that clear?"

"Yes…sir," Neal swallowed hard. Over the years, he had learnt it was in his best interest not to respond with a smart ass comment. "Very clear."

Peter nodded, satisfied that his warning had been heeded. He had no doubt in his mind that there was a strong possibility his seventeen year old son was dabbling in forgeries, testing the waters with his forever developing dubious skill set, but now that Neal knew his dad was on to him, he'd probably shelve the idea and put some distance between himself and his next mischievous venture.

"Good. Now come on, or we're going to be late…" Peter started off but the teenager remained unmoving. "Neal…Neal…"

"…_.Neal, come over here son, I want to show you something."_

"Dad…" Neal looked around examining his surrounds.

"Yeah."

"Did, uh did I ever live near here as a kid?"

Peter turned back towards his son and gazed about thoughtfully, "I'm not sure sport. I could probably look it up, see if you and your mom lived in this area…Does something look familiar?"

Neal ambled over to the fountain at the centre of the park and shrugged, "I'm not sure…maybe….I think I've been here before."

"Perhaps as a youngster you passed through on one of your many solo hiking expeditions."

Neal rolled his eyes and chose to ignore his father's teasing reference to all the times he wandered off as a kid, and instead, began examining the statue beside the fountain. It was a life-size figure of a young woman playing a violin. The inquisitive teenager ran his hand along the brass arm while considering that her 'one moment in time' expression, had the most beautifully contented look he had ever seen. "Someone's done a fine job of crafting her…

"_You like her, Neal?"_

"_Yes dadda…"_

…She's beautiful."

Peter smiled while admiring his son, admiring the art. Most passerby's wouldn't have given the statue the time of day but his kid had never been able to walk past a work of art without caressing and appraising each and every detail.

"_She is a beauty isn't she…She reminds me of your mom… That's why I picked her."_

"_Picked her…What for Dadda?"_

"_Well," Carl boosted his boy higher on his hip so the little tyke could get a better viewing angle, "see that big ring on her finger?"_

_The little boy screwed up his nose, "Yeah, course I do."_

_Carl laughed, "Well…That's daddy's present for Momma."_

"_You gonna give her that ring, Dadda? It's not very shiny. Momma likes clean fings."_

"_I know kiddo," Carl had matched the dull brass coating perfectly. "It doesn't look all that appealing does it? But you remember what Momma taught you? It's what's underneath that counts."_

"_What's nundaneaf that Dadda?"_

"_Something that's worth lots and lots of money kiddo."_

"'_Nough money to buy one of those cool new scooter twikes like I saw that boy riding 'esterday?"_

"_Kiddo, more than enough to buy that luxury yacht you point to every time we take the ferry."_

"_Are you gonna buy us a boat Dadda? Can I have a boat for my birthday?"_

_Carl ruffled the little boy's curls while chuckling, "No, I'm not going to buy you a boat for your birthday but I am…" he leaned in close like he was divulging a closely guarded secret, "But I am going to buy your Momma a house."_

"_A house?"_

"_Yep."_

"_But that's zactly what Momma wished for when I found her a floating dandy wishing flower. How did you know, Dadda?"_

"_Oh, you'd be surprised what your dadda knows sport."_

"_Can I see the house? Does it have a swing? I hope it has a big swing."_

"_I know you do kiddo, but you can't see it yet. I have a few things to sort out first."_

"_When can I see it Dadda?"_

"_Soon Neal. Very soon, but listen, I don't want you to tell your mommy about the ring just yet okay?"_

"_Why not?"_

"_Because it's a surprise for Mommy."_

"_It's a secrwet?" The little boy's blue eyes sparkled. _

"_Yep, it's our little secret Neal. Just between you and me." Carl kissed his son on the head and placed him carefully back on his feet. "Now come on kiddo, we have to get home before Mommy sends out a search party to look for us."_

"_Okay Dadda," the little boy was about to follow his father but stopped to have one last look over his shoulder at the statue._

"_Let's go Neal…"_

"Neal," Peter walked back and placed a gentle hand on his son's shoulder. He recognised the look in the teenager's eyes as one of those times his son had drifted off and stepped back in time for a moment or two. Over the years, Neal had recalled many snippets from his past when something jogged his memory but unlike the early days when it was an emotionally difficult issue to deal with, Neal had learned to enjoy discovering things about the years he spent with his first mom and dad and was always excited to share those memories with Peter and El. "What did you remember son?"

"Uh," Neal snapped back to the present, "Um…I was here with my dad."

"Really?" Peter was surprised. Mostly Neal's memories were of his mom and him. Carl rarely factored in.

"Yeah. I'm sure he brought me here and showed me this statue."

Peter examined the statue with renewed interest. "Perhaps he liked it too?"

"I think so. Something about it reminding him of mom."

"Yeah, I guess I can see that." Peter ran his hands down the woman's hair before checking his watch. "We really better get going, but if you like, I'll check up the housing records and see if I can't find where you were living at the time and we'll come back and take some photos."

"That'd be great." Neal began to run his fingers over the ring on the woman's hand.

"Nice ring," Peter indicated with a nod of his head, "Pity it's not real."

"Yeah…Pity," Neal responded distractedly.

"Let's go sport," Peter made a move in the direction towards the house.

"Coming…" Neal rubbed the ring one last time before heading off after his dad, his brilliant teenage brain ticking over possibilities and scenarios. "Do you think Mrs Ellington will have a hammer?" Neal asked as he caught up.

"What for?" Peter's words were out before he had thought about it. "Nope, no," he held up his hand, "I don't want to know."


End file.
